#‘its not about lying it’s about presenting the truth in a positive light with the right words!’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

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BORN SINNER III

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summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I��m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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husbandohunter · 4 years ago

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Windblume Memories [Genshin Impact]

Synopsis: “The annual Windblume festival held in the name of romance and freedom! Why not celebrate it with your lover?”

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc

(A/N): A self-indulgent headcanon because Mihoyo has yet to give us more moments with our husbandos. Just imagining them having fun and enjoying, mah heart~~ And no Mihoyo, if you bother giving us their quotes why can’t you just give us a hangout already (cri cri)

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{Diluc}

“I do know how to play music. Is it so strange?"

• As the most eligible (former)bachelor of Mondstadt, it wouldn't be a surprise if he actually knew the ways of an instrument. But here you were, comepletely awestruck while looking expectantly at your fiance.

• "Diluc you're so perfect I love you!" -you probably

• Back in the days when he took his etiquette lessons, Diluc also learned how to play the violin as well as the piano but the lyre was a traditional instrument of Mondstadt so he focused on that the most.

• His repitoire would lean more to the soft and solemn pieces. (Like his soundtracks HA)

• Diluc is quite shy when you ask him to give you a performance but the way you just plead, he can't say no

• If you don't know how to play an instrument, he'll be more than glad to help you. He's an excellent teacher due to the vast amount of patience he has (thought can't really say the same for other people) and could spend hours elaborating on the same place you've been stuck at.

"Why is this song so slooooow?"

"You're being too hasty, love."

• You're worried if he's bored but Diluc reassures that he isn't. Seldom does he have the opportunity to spend time with you like this so he makes sure to treasure every moment (Even when you're about to break the goddam lyre out of frustration).

• But when you do manage to make it to the end after several attempts, albeit still terrible, there would be the stupidest fat grin on your face while chanting, "I did it! I did it!"

• And he'd praise you as a soft expression graces his features, "You certainly did."

• Soft man I cri

"It takes a long period of training to become a battle-ready archer. These games are only enough to pass the time."

• "No Diluc, I brought you here to have fun not to have this as a training session."

• This man can do pretty much ANYTHING and literally win you any prize. You want that stuffed toy? Consider it taken.

• Perhaps the activities weren't challenging enough. Whether it'd be wind gliding or the peculiar wonderland house, he's got the reflexes for it all.

• Since Diluc is so battle oriented, he treats the games as such. You call him a worry wart after falling into the pit just because you steped on the wrong stone: "Diluc I’m fine. Its just a game." He’ll grab you out of pure instinct and apologize shortly after when you pout at him

• Eventually Diluc learns to loosen up while still keeping an eye at your stance. You figured it would probably be best if you two stuck with something more light and carefree. In a nutshell, anything but the peculiar wonderland house.

• At the end of the day, the two of you are exhausted from all that workout. While closing up Angel's Share after a long night, Diluc catches you falling asleep at the front bar and gently drapes his coat over your shoulders.

• His initial plan was to wake you up since the ideal place to sleep would be the Dawn Winery but Diluc didn't have the heart to wake you up. He simply sits on the stool beside you while leaning down to memorize your serene look, thankful to have been able to experience what it's like to live in a city of freedom again.

{Kaeya}

"Oh dear, is this what they call a height advantage? I suppose I can go a little easy on you all to make things a bit more exciting."

• You gave him that look where you weren't quite sure if he was lying or telling the truth. Could the Cavalry Captain be afraid of heights? You'll never know.

• So regardless, you guys decided to fly together which at first was meant to be a competition of who can collect the most flowers. You managed to land safely with the highest score while your boyfriend was still behind, trying to avoid the dusty balloons.

"Seems like I went a little too easy on you," he jests. You roll your eyes.

"Alright, let's go for another round then."

• This time you had a different idea. Just a few seconds before the game started, you took him by the hand and jumped straight off the platform. The whole time as the two of you were soaring through the air, you held him tight.

• "Now it shouldn't be so scary anymore!"

• The surprised expression he had lasted for a moment before melting into a smile, "How very cunning of you, darling."

• Your security gave him the chance to admire the scenery from the skies, it was a breathtaking view. How your hair whips beautifully against the wind and your pink-tainted cheeks from the cold, breathtaking.

• Though, holding the other meant you had to collect the flowers with one hand and one arm which proved to be very unproductive. Even once the both of you landed within the garland of windwheel asters, Kaeya was still holding your hand.

• Kaeya often treats fearful situations as thrilling experiences but the outcome in the end turned out to be more favourable than he had initially planned it to be. Though if you’re a novice windglider beware, this man will let you go at random times just so he can see your reactions.

"What an interesting diversion. Since everyone's in high spirits, it would truly be a shame if I didn't pitch in a little!"

• You were extremely curious of Kaeya's musical skills since his nature tends to lean towards the frivolous side. Unexpectedly, his tunes and playing style sounded melancholic as well. Most likely due to the fact of growing up in the Ragnvindr household.

• Since he hangs out at the bars during late nights quite often, Kaeya would know how to play a few tunes he picked up along the way. He would love to give you a full on performance! Anything for his sweetheart~ Though keep staring and you might find him teasing you about it after.

• Honestly Kaeya also makes an excellent teacher. His way of wording makes everything so easy to understand which is helpful to avoid silly mistakes. He teaches you very simple lyre pieces, brushing his fingers over yours every once in a while to help you adjust the right position.

• You think he's doing this on purpose to get you bothered but Kaeya simply feigns ignorance.

• But if you do know how to play a lyre, it would be a session where both of you share your songs. Out of all of them, there was one song that stuck out the most:

You felt a sense of longing in the tune Kaeya played. Far too slow to match the upbeat atmosphere of Mondstadt during the day and not as romantic as it would be during the night. Instead, it seemed to reflect the emotion of sadness, like hands reaching to a far away land which turned out to be nothing but a mirage.

"Where did you learn that piece? I never heard it before," you comment shortly after he finished.

Kaeya hums playfully while shooting a grin to match, "I composed it myself."

"Is that so?" You learned to not take everything at face value when talking to your lover, "Then where did you draw your inspiration from. It doesn't seem like you'd create it on a whim when your expertise lies in swordsmanship."

"Aha just when did you become so keen sweetheart?"

"Since I started dating you."

"Touche."

There would be a momentary pause and during times like these, it was easy to tell that the subject was related to his homeland. Kaeya always found it hard to bring up the topic, even before he met Crepus, music was one of the very last traces that tied his life to the scarce warms days of Khaenriah.

"What's the song called?"

Thankful that you changed the subject, Kaeya answers, "Frozen Dreams. At least, that is what I can remember."

"Frozen Dreams?" You pondered quietly, "I wonder what that title means."

"Do you like it that much?"

"Of course, that piece must be very important to you right? I would like to learn it," You pump your fists determinedly, I would like to learn about you as much as I can.

He looks at you, lips slightly parted at your genuine declaration. Although you may be tenacious when it came to his secrets, Kaeya did not doubt that it was also one of the quirks he loved about you most. With a small chuckle, he complies your request, “It would be my pleasure.”

Sometimes its best to leave the words unspoken. Perhaps another day when Kaeya feels ready to tell you everything, for now he will revel in the present where the intagible feelings of music and emotion do the speaking.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #kaeya alberich #kaeya x reader #diluc #Kaeya #nya-writes

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visd3stele · 3 years ago

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Remus image - angst & fluff

*mostly angst with a tinsy bit of fluff

*forced marriage trope

summary: you're a Slytherin pure blood dating Remus Lupin, but your family has other plans

TW: none

A/N: any thoughts and opinions are welcomed. I'd love your reviews. Requests are open, too, if any of you are interested in that

masterlist

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

You're staring at the high ceiling, wide awake and way past the middle of the night. In your hands, an envelope is twitching with every move of your fingers, twisting its corners anxiously. You received it at dinner that night, the letter from your family. And wisely waited until the privacy of your room to open it. Around you, pure bloods Slytherins were sound asleep. You made sure not to let any emotion show, on your face or voice. Something everyone in between the walls of the Slytherin residence could most likely do.

You read it once. Then again and again until each word, each letter carved its mark in your brain. Carefully, you folded it back, wrapping it in the thick layer of the envelope. Despite having stopped reading it, the news your family dropped on you kept on repeat in your mind. Over and over and over. Marriage. They found you a perfect, pure blood spouse to marry. No matter that you were still in school. And only sixteen. And already having a boyfriend.

But of course, that last part might be exactly why your blood supremacist family decided to take your love life in their hands at last. For you were dating Remus Lupin, head boy of Griffindor. Involuntarily your lips moved upward at the mere thought of him. The way his soft brown hair feels under your palms when he lays his head in your lap in the afternoon – that is when you convince him to take a break from learning for a change. Your smiled deepened. The way his scarred hands stroke your face right before he leans in to kiss you. You blushed in the dark. The way his eyes sparkle after one of the Marauders notorious pranks. The way he rolls his eyes and leave a snarky comments to any Slytherin who mock your relationship and how it only masks his own fears and self doubts.

Now you were crying. You'll have to break up with him. You'll have to break up with him without bringing the marriage up. You didn't want him to think back on what could have been years after. It's better if he thinks there is no chance anymore to be with you. And you had to do it quick. News spread in the pure blood community and risking lying about your parents intention only to fool yourself a bit longer with stolen happy times was as self destructive as it can get at this point.

You slipped your body on one side. And tossed. The envelope fell off your bed. You didn't bother to pick it up. But someone did. You felt it rather than hear it, someone picking it up and placing it on your nightstand.

" 'Morning," that sweet voice you loved so much whispered. And you snapped your head towards it in shock. Only to find a very uncomfortable Remus Lupin, switching from leg to leg, smiling awkwardly at you.

"It's five in the morning." He stated before you could find your words through the foggy veil of your thoughts. "And the sunrise is about to start..." Remus went on, looking anywhere but at you.

More tears sting your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheeks and getting completely out of your control. Here he was, your perfect boyfriend, sneaking in your bedroom to take you to see the sunrise. For you, this boy defined romance and no amount of scars, secret disappearances on the full moon and mysteries surrounding it could change that. You were more than willing to give him time, let him open up to you when he feels like it. After all, he has great friends to share secrets with and you wouldn't get in between them.

Biting your lips, you closed the distance and hugged him tight. After less than a second of hesitation, Remus put his hands around you as well. You needed it, the proximity, the safety, the warmth and love. When you were sure your voice won't break, you breathed a question to him. "And how are you planning to sneak me out?"

Remus saw right through your attempt. He pulled back a little, enough to brush his fingers over your swollen face. "Have you been crying?" Worry clouded those beautiful brown eyes. You shook your head, snatching yourself from him and desperately wiping your tears. You should do it now. Tell him it's over. Spare him – and yourself – for the pain and torture of stretching it longer. It was time to face it: your relationship was doomed from the start.

But you couldn't. Not yet. Just a little more time, you bargained with yourself. Just that sunrise together. One last date. You promised to no one. So you made yourself swallow and said instead "My family," dismissing any further remarks.

Remus pulled you back into his lean body, long arms the only thing holding you together. He needed no other explanation. Thanks to that friend of his, Sirius, Remus knew exactly what those two words meant coming from a pure blood kid. He pressed a kiss on top of your head, caressing your back in soothing large circles. Voice dipped with concern, he asked "Do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you?"

"What about taking me to see that sunrise you mentioned and we'll figure it out from there?"

He nodded, led you to the now slightly opened window and motioned for his broom flying within reach.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The sun beamed from between rare clouds, spread amongst a royal blue sky. Orange light crowned the ascending golden disc, fading into a soft purple and light pink at its edges. The curtain of morning mist broke the rays in matt bliss, wrapping around your entangled figures.

A wet coldness flew on with the tentative mist, but Remus planned everything ahead, it seemed. He had a wool blanket at ready, different bits and pieces of clothing, threads and patches sewed together.

"Don't tell me you picked up knotting, Moony." You didn't know when it happened, but you had taken on calling him by the silly nickname his friends did.

"No. My mother made it, actually." The scar on his lip pulled up as he patted the spot next to him. He had laid a blanket on the freshly cut grass near the Black Lake and held his mother's gift in a silent invitation.

You snuggled in, circling his waist with your arms and nuzzled your nose in the crook of his neck. "Y/n!" he exclaimed, a shiver running through him at the contact with your cold skin. You sent him a grin that had nothing to do with apologies and you both snickered before turning awe filled eyes to the sunrise.

Remus let his own head lean down on your own, brown hair slightly brushing your forehead. His hand found its way to yours and as your fingers laced together he rubbed his thumb on top of your palm.

Content silence settled in. Only birds dared sing a sharp note once in a while. Your boyfriend knew how to choose a date spot, you were more than happy to give him that. The marvelous sight the sky presented doubled in the lake's still waters. Calmness washed over you. Here and now, with Remus' hand in yours, your head resting on his shoulder, everything pieced into place.

You turned your face, meeting the warn off material of his shirt and placed a kiss there. Lifting your lips upward, you kissed his exposed neck as well. Then his cheek, lingering close to his lips before stopping to murmur "I love you, Remus Lupin! So, so much."

He met your lips with his own and you were thankful he said nothing about the pang in your voice. "And I you, my darling." His glittering eyes, filled with adoration and care, were too much for your heart to bear. It was all you could do to close your eyelids tight and press into his side even more.

"Is something wrong, y/n?" Remus asked, shifting his arm to welcome your new position.

"No. Nothing. Just overwhelmed by everything I feel for you." And in a way, it was true. Not the whole truth, but as you couldn't give him that...

An unsure smiled played on your lips. He brought your face to his again, laying a kiss on your nose. You scrunch it up and made a face at him. He tried to bit back his laugh, but failed as a bundle of it escaped in a soft breath, tingling your flushed cheeks.

Remus kissed you again, this time on the bridge of your nose. Which earned him a giggle and a wide smile. Bringing your hands to his face, you cupped his cheeks and touched your noses together.

"We're missing the sunrise. And you put so much effort in this."

"Hmmm," he mused, leaning in your touch. "The sun does much of the work, to be fair." You burst in laughing at that, shaking your forehead against his.

You two traded more kisses – and then some more, bathed in the dawn light of a new day.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Where have you been?" You heard James Potter asked your boyfriend when you bumped in him and the rest of the Marauders in the hall.

Peter waved at you, while Sirius gave you a knowing smirk at which you rolled your eyes. Truth be told, their demand wasn't misplaced. You and Remus didn't show up at breakfast, and run late for the first class.

"Down at the lake, Prongs. I should know better than to ask for notes, right?"

"Not to worry, Moony, you didn't miss much."

You left Remus to his friends, brushing your lips to his as a form of good-bye. You headed to your room. Thoughts swirled in your mind, flying by so fast you barely registered them. You passed Narcissa and Lucius on your way. They have been married since year four, something you found very unsettling. At that time, you belittled Narcissa for not fighting off her families wishes, like her sister and cousin. But now, that you found yourself in her place? You started to understand. To understand that courage is not so easy to haul up from whatever pit it lays dormant in one's being.

So lost in thoughts, you haven't noticed the guy sitting on your bed until he spoke, voice laced with disgust. "You better kick that sorry excuse of a wizard away before we make our engagement public, honey."

You startled. "Who...?"

"Why, your new husband, of course."

"Future husband. And Remus is a fine wizard, greater than you could ever hope to be."

The stranger only rolled his eyes and huffed. "Whatever you say, honey. Just make him gone by noon. I have plans for us before the ceremony."

A ceremony that would take place in a few months, once summer blooms, you realized, dread chilling your blood in your veins. The tight line of your lips followed your betrothed until he left and swiped the door close.

Noon. Break up with Remus by noon. Make it look like it's over because there is no love anymore. Let him think you choose this smug, full of himself, brainless, boorish brute over him. It's the right course of action. So you told yourself. And so you did. Any hope for standing up against your family gone.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Wind howling outside, rain pouring, you thought the weather mocked you. It just happened to turn gloomy and morbid all of a sudden, when you were about to break the heart of the most precious boy in the whole school. And yours too in the progress.

"Remus, can we talk for a second?"

"Sure, what is it?" He turned his whole focus on you, dropping mid conversation with his mates about whatever prank they were up to next.

"Moony!" three offended sighs followed you as you dragged Remus to a more private spot. The way he no more than waved at his friends, giving all up for you, knowing you had a bad day, strung a painful chord in your soul. You did not deserve this boy. Maybe the wedding was a good thing after all.

"Hey, y/n, talk to me," Remus whispered when you came to a halt. His fingers searched for yours, trying to turn you around to face him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you. We'll fix it."

"No." You said, and cursed your weak voice. You still didn't face him. "No we won't fix this." You spoke again, this time with more surety, allowing a sharp edge to it.

Bless his too kind soul, he didn't balk away. Instead, he took one stop forward, resting his head on your spine and bringing his long arms around you. "Everything's gonna be fine, y/n. I promise."

It took a superhuman effort to break free of his embrace. And you finally swirled to meet his soft brown eyes. Tears rolled down, dripping from your chin, but you didn't let him comfort you. Shacking your head, you took another step back, building distance between you, as if the following words would hurt less that way.

"Everything's not gonna be fine, Remus. Not with us. Not anymore."

For a couple seconds, he stared at you, confusion painting his beautiful features. Then, realization sunk in. And in that moment, you were sure nothing could ever hurt you as badly as his pain struck expression. His parted lips, moving in vain to form words that doesn't exist. His frenzy eyes, looking all over yourself, searching for any sign of a cruel joke. For a trace that you weren't being serious. Eyes that begin to water when he found none.

But he refuse to let the tears flow. Remus led his stare to a dark, far away corner of the empty hall. Heat colored his face, a light shade of pink that not even the cool from the open window couldn't beat down. "So that's why you were distant this morning?" Your boyfriend asked, bitterly even as his voice was small, lost. "That's why you avoided me all day and didn't look me in the eye once, more than a passing moment?"

You knew better than answer. You had nothing to say anyway. "I'm sorry, Remus. I've been meaning to tell you earlier..."

A razor sharp laugh bit your words off. "But you took pity on the poor half-blood."

No, no it wasn't like that, you wanted to say. Those remained only thoughts as you wiped your face and crossed your arms to keep them from reaching out. Reaching out to him, reassure him, hug him. Whatever he believed, you'd roll with it. If he thought you an evil pure blood, then fine! You'll be that.

An image of your mother's face, lips curled in disgust at the last Quidditch match when Slytherin lost again in favor of Gryffindor, served as model for the expression you forced your own face into.

"I didn't want it to be like this. Goodbye, Remus Lupin."

You turned. And left. Just left. You kept your back straight as you walked away from the boy who tickled your heart. Who placed feather light kissed on your cheeks, and nose and forehead for days into your relationship, too shy to initiate something more without your worded agreement. The wizard who helped you with assignments, not thinking anything less of you when you weren't perfect. Who let you fall asleep in his lap at Hogwarts' few parties that you couldn't stand due to your family. This guy who gave you everything you were too afraid to dream of. And you just walked away, as if couldn't be bothered to care.

His fist thrumming once on the hallway's wall filled your ears, a sound forever carved in your brain. The thud that followed, of him sliding down on the floor you guessed, printed an image in your mind you'll pray to forget. Remus' silent sobs, though, almost made you turn around and run towards him.

You didn't so much as cast a glance back, knowing what you'll see and too much of a coward to bear it. His body shaking with crying, knees cradled to up to his chest where his chin digged in, covered by lean arms with palms crossed over his head.

His friends would find him. They'd help him. Remus will move over and forget you. Each sentence was another step. Each step, another crack in your heart. By the time you reached your room, collapsed in your bed and twisted in a similar position to your boyfriend's – ex boyfriend. It made you understand, showed you far too clearly why he'd sit like that. The pure devastation and despair, the attempt to contain a hollowness within, to replace a part where a whole, happy heart used to beat.

You broke Remus Lupin's heart. And yours was just as shattered. And there was no going back from it now.

PART 2

144 notes · View notes

jamilelucato · 4 years ago

Text

Mine [F.W.]

pairing: Fred Weasley x reader;

summary: Fred suggests the unmissable proposal to pretend to be dating, but will it work?

warnings: fluffy but i know you all love it;

a/n: forgot to mention but the reader can be from any house (if you are one to believe that students from different houses can stay in other common rooms); again, this is for the A Very Harry Potter Christmas (day 8) with @whack-ed

Harry Potter Masterlist || Musical Hogwarts Series

When Fred came to you, three weeks ago, asking for your help, you said yes, because, frankly, it was pretty nice being the one the twins trusted to teach them new rare spells and charms.

However, three weeks ago, Fred didn’t ask for your help with spellcasting. He asked you to date him.

Okay, okay, fake date him. But still dating, so it was a surprise. You gasped for air, unsure of what to say next, unsure of how to continue. You stared at him, involuntarily tilting your head.

And you said yes. Honestly, you didn’t regret it — yet. Fred explained how you two would proceed, and your part came across pretty easy.

You had to smile at him during classes, and toss him notes. He was going to spend more time around you in the library, and you would join him in his and his twin’s pranks. Again, pretty simple stuff.

“And nobody can know?” your whispered echoed in the dark abandoned corridor.

Fred held his wand which had its tip light with Lumos closer to your face. He wanted to be sure you wouldn’t tell anyone about it.

“No one. Not even George,” he whispered back, hoping to sound serious. “That one can’t keep a secret, I’ll tell you that. And he’ll tell her.”

“Her?” you asked before you could hold yourself. When Fred and George asked for your help, and you agreed, you couldn’t ask questions. That was their primary rule, but you were so curious...

“Angelina,” he said her name in a tender whisper and part of you felt jealous. Not of Fred — Godric, no — but of the fact that Angelina had someone like her. And nobody liked you in, what? Forever?

“Is this all for her?” you asked politely, moving your own wand towards the two of you, who, now thinking, were closer than needed in the dim passageway.

Fred gulped. Yeah, he fancied Angelina. George knew. Now, you knew too. But he didn’t like to say it, and he hated when people mentioned, particular because she didn’t like him back.

“So when do we start?” you asked after a moment in silence after Fred refused to confirm he liked the Gryffindor chaser.

Fred’s head rested over your lap while you carelessly ran your fingers through his ginger locks, in one of the opaquest couches available in Gryffindor’s common room.

It wasn’t the first time you two could be found in this position. Although you generally preferred to be the one laying down — you loved when people in general played with your hair —; when Fred walked in you were already sitting, so he was left to be the one to lie down.

Three weeks of fake-dating had gone by, and you couldn’t believe it. At first, the days seemed to be going down slowly, as you had to force interactions with the twin. But after the end of the first week, when Fred met you with the offer to walk around the school holding your hand, the relationship came to be easier to tolerate and the days started going by really fast.

Fake-dating Fred was effortless because Fred was a good friend. That wasn’t much of a surprise — you knew Mrs Weasley had raised her children well — but the fact that he was an exceptional joker and a funny chap was a bonus you weren’t expecting.

He would’ve been a nice first boyfriend if he had been in fact your first boyfriend.

Thankfully, people were buying the relationship with no problem — you even heard Ginny saying it was inevitable. You two didn’t even need to kiss in front of the students for them to believe. Well, you did have to endure some physical contact (like what you were doing right now with his head over your lap), but that was surprisingly rather enjoyable.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Fred asked all of the sudden after Godric knew how long you two had stayed cosy in front of the fire.

“I’m going to Hogsmeade to buy some Christmas presents,” you answered, looking down to meet his gaze. He seemed peaceful and calm when he had your fingers intertwined in his hair. “Wanna come?” you invited him to enjoy your little trip — a corner of your mind remembering that he was allegedly your boyfriend; therefore, he should escort you.

“Sure,” he smiled, but you were almost sure that it was because you moved your fingers and not because he was much excited to Hogsmeade. “Have to buy some myself.”

George spotted you two in the couch, comfortable together — as he was already used to finding you two — and he joined in the conversation.

“Plans for tomorrow?” he asked, sitting down in the sofa next to your left.

“Hogsmeade,” was Fred’s simple reply. You found it super cool how he didn’t even need to get up to know the voice belonged to his twin.

That was another thing being in a sham relationship with Fred made you improve: differentiating Fred from George. Not that three weeks earlier, you were terrible, but you were undoubtedly not the best one for the job. Now, you had no problem at all.

“Oh, perhaps I’ll see you two around,” George smiled, his eyes meeting yours. You smiled back at him, pleased to know that he still liked you even though you supposedly had his twin’s tongue in your mouth often. George didn’t know the truth, obviously, but even so... You wondered how long would take the twin to found out Fred was lying about his love life. “I have a date,” added George, noticing that he should elaborate.

“Wow, Georgie, how nice!” you kept your smile, this time only shaking your head positively so he could know you were genuinely happy.

Fred seemed delighted too, stretching his neck over your lap for just an opportunity to see his twin without having to get up.

“Good luck,” wished Fred. “Although she can’t be pretty as my girl, I hope yours is at least cute.”

You looked down at Fred, meeting his gaze before nudging his head slightly out of your lap. If you two were indeed dating, instead of pushing, you would’ve kissed him — and, oh, the urge to do so was strong, but you reminded yourself that he was just following his act.

George watched your interaction with joy in his eyes. He was happy for his brother for finally finding someone to utterly understand him — and he had other reasons too, but they didn’t matter now.

“You two are so cute, ” George said, before getting up. Fred hadn’t even noticed that his twin was still there — so much he was distracted with your attempt of being embarrassed. Deep down, Fred was acknowledging that more than often, you were managing to truly distract him from his surroundings.

“I’ll leave you two with some privacy,” said George before finally leaving.

You and Fred exchanged looks again, and then both burst into laughter, not believing George honestly had let that out.

“He seems more romantic,” you pointed out, starting to play with Fred’s hair again.

Fred shifted — you felt his body melt at your touch again.

“Perhaps it’s this new girl, ” Fred shrugged. He came off as unable to care deeply when your fingers ran through his scalp.

“I don’t think she’s much new,” you said, thinking more to yourself how George always appeared to be the more romantic of the twins.

“Which one do you think Ginny would like more?” Fred asked, holding what seemed to be two same shirts for you, who had no basic sense of how to tell Quidditch teams apart.

“Which one is she fan of?” you asked, deciding to not mention to Fred that you were terrible with teams.

Fred sighed. “Both,” he replied, knowing deep down that his sister would like any of the shirts, but he just wanted to get her the perfect one.

“Well, I’d pick this one,” you took a loop of faith, pointing to the shirt with your favourite colour. Fred stared at the one you aimed and then smiled, suddenly realizing you had no idea which team was each.

“I’ll go with your suggestion,” he then said, leaving the other shirt behind and heading to the cashier. You were glad he was over with the Quidditch Supplies store — you really had no interest in being there longer than necessary.

To be fair with Fred, he was being a very charming companion in the Hogsmeade trip, and he had even paid you a hot chocolate mug. Since students were bumping with you two all the time, the dating facade was still up and so, he was holding your hand around the village.

It was probably the first time since the whole thing started that you actually felt nervous about making physical contact with Fred. Perhaps it was because this trip (and the Christmas shopping thing) felt too personal, but you couldn’t be sure.

Well, actually, you didn’t want to be sure. You couldn’t have feelings for Fred — period.

“Did you buy everything you wanted?” you asked Fred, a couple of hours later, because you were a bit tired of walking around, pilling up bags of gifts. But you didn’t want to be the one to admit.

“Huh, yes,” he answered, after checking out the bags he held. “Three Broomsticks?”

Shaking your head in an affirmative, you repositioned your own plastic bags while Fred waited for you, with his hand stretched. You swallowed hard a second before you felt the touch of it — although perhaps the high temperature was the fault of the gloves you both wore.

Why the hell could you feel an electric shock when touching him when there were literally layers of tissue separating both of you?

Fred walked in first, holding the door up for you, and, as you walked in, he offered to take your bags himself. You tried to protest, but he was very determined about it, and you were glad to be free of the extra weight.

It was then you saw George, sitting in a table not far away from the entrance. He was laughing cutely because the girl with him had gotten herself a moustache made of butterbeer.

Oh, and the girl was Angelina Johnson.

“Fred?” you called his name, unsure of what to do, but you definitely needed to take Fred away from there. He looked up from the bags on the floor. “Let’s go back to the castle; we can drink butterbeer later.”

Fred frowned, confused with why you changed your mood. “I’ll grab it really fast, [y/n], don’t worry.”

“No, Fred, I want to go back,” you tried to be firm.

“[y/n], nonsense; why...?” but he never finished his question. Instead of focusing on your face as he was doing before, he focused on what was happening behind you.

And behind you, George and Angelina were having the time of their lives.

“Fred?” this time you called his name in a lower voice, scared of what his reaction. Well, or the lack of it, since he seemed frozen in time. “Freddie?”

The ginger boy shook his head as if he was getting rid of a bad taste in his throat. He finally met your eyes, and although he wasn’t exactly smiling, he didn’t look sad either.

“Sure you don’t want that butterbeer?” he asked, surprising you because or a) he was being very mature about the whole Angelina thing or b) he was hiding his feelings.

“Let’s get out of here,” you replied, not allowing him to suggest anything else since you took most of the bags on the floor and opened the door of the pub again.

If George noticed you two had walked in on his date, he never mentioned.

You didn’t stop walking — and hoped Fred was doing the same — until you were back at the train station and inside one to get back to Hogwarts. Since the trip was quick, trains were coming and going all the time, and with a look at your wristwatch, you knew that the next one was leaving in just ten minutes.

It was only when you sat down that you decided to face Fred again, who, unbelievably still had the same expression on: neutral.

“Okay. Can we talk about what we just saw?”

“My twin on a date?” Fred raised a brow, his expression shifting to confusion, but there was no sign of anger on it.

“Your twin on a date with Angelina,” you corrected the boy, turning your whole body to face him. It was comfy because the bags were no longer in your hands, making every move extreme.

“Oh, that.”

“That, Fred. Aren’t you... angry? Disappointed? Anything?” you asked. You were supposed to be handling this calmly, but his lack of emotion was annoying your guts.

“George’s happy, so I’m happy. It’s that simple, actually,” Fred shrugged, avoiding your eyes for the first time that day.

“It’s not simple. You like her, Freddie,” you stated what should’ve been obvious for him.

Fred sighed, shrinking in his cushioned seat. He had been avoiding that talk, and it was not just since he saw his twin with Angelina.

He has been noticing his feelings for Angelina had changed, but he couldn’t point out how it changed, and why it did. He figured it was because of you, but that made no sense in his mind.

You weren’t supposed to be his type. You were nerdy and an avid reader (and read for fun, which he could never understand). You didn’t know anything about Quidditch, so you stayed away from the sport. You thought long before you acted, which was so different from him, who was always more emotion than reason.

Honestly, he didn’t even understand how he managed to keep his friendship with you for so many years. Of course, Fred was grateful to be your friend — after all, you had a questionable sense of humour that always fascinated the ginger, and even though you were afraid of being caught for it, you never denied help to him and his brother when a prank needed.

He knew that something could change in the dynamics of the two of you when he suggested being your fake boyfriend, but he didn’t think that the change would turn the relationship into something so much better.

Fred stared back at you, having no idea of what to say to you. He was afraid of rejection. And this time his fear seemed more potent than anything he ever felt before.

“I don’t like her anymore,” he simply said, still focused on your beautiful eyes.

His answer confused you. “Well, then why are we still dating?”

You noticed when you forgot to add the word “fake” in your sentence, but you were so done with that word that you shook that thought away.

“I don’t know,” Fred sighed, looking down at his hands over his lap.

You stared at him, not being able to believe the guy. You had lost three weeks for a boy that didn’t know what he was doing? Three weeks that you could have invested in finding a real boyfriend?

Your hands reached for your plastic bags, and as soon as the train stopped, you ran out of it.

“[y/n]!” you heard Fred call you, but you didn’t dare look back.

“Didn’t see you and [y/n] in Hogsmeade. Did you guys leave early?” George asked when he sat down next to his twin in the common room.

He had walked Angelina back to her dorm, and he decided to see if his twin was still around. George was never one to brag, but he really needed to vent to someone about how happy he was that he could finally be with the girl he wanted because Fred didn’t fancy her anymore.

Fred looked up to his other half and pressed his lips tight against one another. If he didn’t tell George, he would find out later, and he wouldn’t be happy.

“We broke up,” Fred simply said, biting his nails.

George’s eyes widened as he stared at his twin and he gulped nervously, not knowing how to proceed. His happiness was suddenly gone.

Fred didn’t get over Angie, and, once again, George would’ve to step away, leaving the path over to his twin. Damn it, George told himself, I really thought [y/n] was the one for him.

“Can I ask why?” George was still holding on to his hope.

“She...” Fred started, but he didn’t know if that was the right way to say it. “I...” he corrected himself, but it still sounded off. “Well, we weren’t really dating.”

George raised his brows. How come you weren’t really dating? Thinking about it now, I never saw them kissing, George reminded himself. But the way they looked at each other, the way Fred melts at her touch... How [y/n] blushes when Fred praises her... You two looked like a real couple for George.

“It was one of my stupidest ideas, but I went with it, and now I’ve lost a friend,” Fred complained, staring at his twin, hoping George had a solution. But the younger twin was as lost as Fred. “I was so dumb!”

“Fake-dating is always a dumb idea,” George pointed out, relaxing once again.

So Fred does fancy her, he though. But he screwed up.

It wasn’t like Fred could tell George the real reason behind why he suggested dating to you, but he could spin around the truth.

“I had a reason behind the whole thing, I just wasn’t expecting [y/n] to become more important to me than my initial reason,” explained Fred, sighing.

“I was. I mean, I would’ve,” George said, making Fred stare at him with confusion. “You always seemed to have a thing for her. I don’t know, perhaps just attraction?”

George saw that Fred was still lost, so he continued.

“Like, did you really need her to teach you Aguamenti for that prank on Filch two months ago? We had just learned it with Flitwick,” George used the first example that popped in his mind. “Or when you wanted to prank McGonagall so she would believe you were Dumbledore — you’re gonna tell me you didn’t know how to prepare a Polyjuice Potion?”

Fred gulped, suddenly feeling guilty. His twin was right — he never needed guidance with those simple spells and potions, but he ran for your help at any chance he had. Only now he knew it was because he wanted to be around you.

He reached for one of the cushions over the red couch and screamed on it. George found the scene hilarious.

“I’m screwed!”

It was the Sunday after the Hogsmeade trip, and even though every cell on your body wished to stay in bed, you knew that deep down you had no real reason to be mad and to feel heartbroken.

Your involvement with Fred was fake, and it was bound to be over from the beginning. You, better than all people, should know it. So there was no reason to stay curled up in bed, moaning about it.

But even if you knew you were bound to see Fred around the school, you weren’t expecting him to be outside of your common room entrance, as if he was expecting you to come out.

“Fred?” you had no idea why you said his name in that tone of surprise. Down, you knew he would come looking for you as soon as he had another prank planned.

His face lightened up when he heard his name coming from your lips. After his long talk with his twin last night, he started noticing you did, in fact, have a strong power over him, one that even you didn’t seem aware of.

“We went Christmas shopping yesterday, and I never gave you your gift,” he said, explaining himself, answering the question you didn’t dare ask.

“It’s not Christmas,” you said, a bit too quickly, “yet.”

“But it’s soon to be,” he raised a brow, stepping away from the wall he was leaned in and handing you a small box.

“How come I didn’t see you buy it?”

“Because I can be very sneaky when I want to,” he smiled. It was so easy for him to be happy around you.

“Hm,” his answer didn’t convince you, but you opened the box anyway, finding a beautiful golden necklace inside.

It had a small pendant on it — an initial, his initial. The golden “F” sparkled in your hands.

“Fred, wow,” the jewel made you speechless — you knew Fred wasn’t rich and you were almost sure that it was very expansive. “I can’t accept it, Freddie — we’re not dating anymore.”

Fred stopped your hands with his before you could return the necklace.

“I bought it for you.”

“It has your initial on it,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, I hoped to mark you as mine,” he smirked, deciding to be bold about the situation.

“We’re not dating,” you said, swallowing down your wish to forget that detail.

“But do you want to?”

His question echoed in the passageway, but thankfully no one was around to disturb. You stared at the ginger, not believing he could actually be proposing what you heard.

“Fred...” you started, reminding yourself not to panic.

“I lied yesterday on the train. Not about Angelina — I do not fancy her,” he explained himself, stepping closer to you. “I lied about why I didn’t end or fake-relationship earlier. I didn’t do it because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you with someone else, making plans with another boy, holding hands with another guy.”

You gulped, but Fred didn’t seem ready to stop talking.

“I’ve never been as happy as I was during those three weeks you faked liking me,” he continued. “And being away from you will be the death of me. Please don’t turn the school prankster in the school bore,” of course he had to finish his charming speech with some cheeky sentence.

You couldn’t help but giggle, moving closer to him as well.

“I like you too, you idiot,” you smiled, holding tighter the jewel with just one hand.

“So... we’re dating again,” he smirked. “Only this time, I’m allowed to do this.”

Then, tugging you by the waist, he caught your lips in a kiss that would come to be the first of many.

#fred weasley #Fred and George #fred weasley x reader #george and fred #Fred and George Weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #a very harry potter christmas #harry potter #hp #fred x reader

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mxdnightlvers · 3 years ago

Text

Late Nights- A Komahina Smut Oneshot

A/N: I'm not really active here but I thought I should at least post this.

The moon was at its highest, accompanied by a starry night. Hajime was working at his small desk in the corner of his shared room. The sound of paper and typing occasionally filling the silent room. Nagito was asleep but Hajime could not share the same peaceful position as him. He was busy all day and he ended up working late into the night, and even though Nagito protested and tried to get him to rest, Hajime was set on finishing his work tonight. Tiredness pulled at his mind in a battle between work and sleep, sleep becoming victorious as his head rested against the smooth desk surface. He allowed his mind to wander for a few seconds before he realized he was drifting off to sleep. He jolted awake, his hands rubbing his eyes in an attempt to refocus on his screen. The words became an incoherent mess on his screen and he was too tired to continue working.

The blue light was not easy on his eyes and the effects of his cup of coffee had worn off. He wasn't the type to be worn out like this but he wanted to finish any work he had, so he can rest as much as he wanted after. He let out another long sigh and rested his elbows on the desk and buried his eyes into his palms.

"Hinata-Kun?" A soft but recognizable voice called out to him.

Hajime raised his head and turned around, looking into the darkness of their room.

"Ah, did I wake you Nagito?" Hajime replied hoarsely, his exhaustion audible.

"No its fine Hinata-kun."

Nagito replied and the room fell silent. Hajime could barely see in the darkness but he could tell that Nagito was looking at him. His eyes adjusted and he could see Nagito's silhouette. He was sitting up, the blanket still covering his torso. His messy white hair was slightly visible. Hajime wanted to leave all his work behind and crawl into his boyfriend's arms and fall asleep but he was prevented from doing that. Hajime hadn't even realized that he's been staring at Nagito without saying anything.

"Hinata-Kun you've been staring at me for a while, are you okay?" Nagito spoke up, finally breaking the silence.

"Ah...I'm sorry I spaced out for a bit."

Hajime smiled and turned back around and continued to work. Nagito hadn't responded so Hajime thought that everything was fine. In truth, Nagito was simply worried for Hajime. Nagito could hear the exhaustion in his voice. When Hajime faced him, he could see his tired expression illuminated from the computer screen behind. Nagito was frustrated. He had suggested Hajime rest multiple times but he refused every time. Hajime had only gotten Nagito to step down after promising that he would not overdo it and Nagito trusted him. However, after seeing Hajime's state he knew that he had broken their promise. Nagito was trying to prevent this from happening and Hajime refused to listen to him.

"Hinata-Kun," Nagito called out.

"Yes? And we're alone, you can use my first name."

"Hajime...you promised you'd rest," Nagito replied sounding slightly annoyed.

Hajime sighed and turned around, "Look Nagito-," he paused, softening his tone, "I'm almost done, there are only a few more emails to sort out and I'll be free okay?"

Hajime would be lying if he said he sincerely made that promise earlier. He meant his promise and he really was close to finishing, but he mainly said it to make Nagito stop pestering him. Nagito had picked up on his frustrated mood and decided to leave him alone but he couldn't help and be worried for Hajime. After all, how could he not be worried? Hajime had accepted Nagito for all his flaws and imperfections even after everything they've been through. Someone as talented and hopeful as Hajime had chosen trash like him over everyone else. Maybe this was all Nagito's luck but he truly did care for Hajime.

The silence in the room broke with a small robotic noise coming from Nagito's hand and a quiet, "fine" from him. Content with his response, Hajime turned back around and resumed typing. Part of his fatigue faded away knowing that Nagito had let him finish up. With new determination, Hajime's focus on his work increased and he continued to type away. He was so focused, he did not even sense that Nagito had been standing behind him. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him and white fluffy hair tickling his skin as Nagito laid his chin in his neck. Hajime flinched but leaned back into his embrace, eyes still fixated on his screen.

"If I can't get you to rest, can I help you finish up at least?" Nagito whined, his voice sounding slightly needy.

Hajime did not mind at all, instead, he was relieved that he could finally feel the warmth of his lover. The back of his chair prevented them from being closer but it was enough for him to feel satisfied. He wrapped his left hand in Nagito's hair and his right hand took over typing. However, this moment was cut short when Hajime replied to Nagito's question.

"You're not gonna give up are you?" Hajime chuckled, amused but relieved at Nagito's persistence.

Nagito buried his head further into Hajime's neck, trying to hide his embarrassment even though his face wasn't visible to Hajime. He nodded with his eyes squeezed shut and Hajime unwrapped his hand from Nagito's hair.

"Then, can you get me a glass of water please?"

Hajime was quiet but Nagito heard him clearly. He pulled away and Hajime found himself regretting his decision at the loss of his touch. Hajime heard Nagito's footsteps fade out of their room and he resumed typing away. He hit send on the final email and that instantly brought his mood back up. He let out a long sigh, all his hard work finally coming to an end with a wave of relief and accomplishment. He smiled and leaned back into his chair. stretching out his hands. Hajime could only describe this feeling as if all his stress were being drained away, healing his body in the process. Hajime stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before readjusting his position and moving some papers onto his lap. All that was left to do was to sort these final documents into their piles and he'd be finished. The door creaked open and Nagito entered the room with a glass of water in his hand. Hajime spun his chair around, greeting Nagito with a smile, and held out his hand to hold the glass of water.

Only for Nagito to trip and spill the ice-cold water on Hajime's lap. If there were any trace of tiredness left in Hajime, it quickly disappeared as the feeling of cold water leaking through his pants shocked him awake. Hajime squeezed his thighs together and he shook any ice cubes off to ease the uncomfortable feeling. He moved the papers off his lap but that was quickly replaced with Nagito hands frantically trying to fix things.

"Ah, Hinata-Kun I'm so sorry! I'm so clumsy I'll dry you immediately!" Nagito panicked, dropping to his knees and, brushing a nearby napkin over Hajime's sweatpants.

Hajime didn't know which to be more worried about; his boyfriend panicking beneath him or the fact that Nagito hadn't realized where he was touching Hajime. In an attempt to stop Nagito's movements, Hajime placed his hands firmly on Nagito's shoulders. Nagito's hands paused abruptly and his head shot up, everything happening in a blur. Nagito was on his knees directly looking up at Hajime. His expression was taut, eyebrows raised, and his mouth slightly apart. And even though Hajime tried to stop Nagito's hands, his hands were stalled on Hajime's pants. The world seemed to pause for Hajime. With the expression of the boy below him, the placement of his hands, that kneeling position he was in, Hajime couldn't help but think lewd thoughts.

"God, Nagito why'd you have to be so..."

He temporarily broke eye contact to hide his red cheeks. He was supposed to be calming Nagito, and yet, Hajime was the flustered one. He felt a familiar tension in his pants and it became difficult to ignore by the second. Only a few seconds had passed but it felt like he was trying to hide his arousal for minutes. Hajime, suddenly aware of his actions, snapped his head back to stare at Nagito. He refocused his mind to the present, to calm Nagito, and to prevent the tent in his pants from growing. Hajime looked at him with an expression that was stern instead of annoyed, not daring to make his boyfriend feel like he made him mad.

"Hinata-Kun I'm-"

"It's fine Nagito." Hajime quickly cut off Nagito, trying to prevent him from blaming himself.

Hajime smiled softly at him as if he were saying a silent, "don't worry, it's not your fault." Nagito opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he closed his mouth and nodded instead.

"Hey..." Hajime mumbled, placing his hand on top of Nagito's own with new intentions.

"I'm basically finished with work so I'll rest now okay? I just need to change out of these clothes, since...." Hajime remarked, pointing to the stain on his pants.

"Ah," Nagito breathed out in relief, "Of course Hinata-Kun."

Nagito had begun to pull away from Hajime, but he tightened his grip and pulled him back down to his knees. Hajime moved their hands to their previous position as he had hoped that his intentions would catch on.

"H-Hinata-Kun?" Nagito replied, flustered and shocked.

"I didn't say to get up did I?"

"But-" Nagtio was once again cut off when Hajime directly moved his hand on top of his boxers.

Hajime breathed out, as he finally received the touch he so longed for. Nagito just watched in shock and curiosity. He let Hajime guide his hand as Hajime started to rub himself through his pants. It wasn't long before they were both hard, letting themselves go in the moment. Nagito started moving his hands in rhythm with Hajime, edging him to move his hands faster. Nagito was dazed, entranced by the movements of their hands. He couldn't look away, he didn't want to. He didn't want it to stop either. He was always lucky in the moments he could please Hajime. The brunette found amusement in Nagito's expression, gaining a weird sense of euphoria from the way he can please Nagito without doing much.

"Hah...I'm warming right up arent I?" Hajime breathed out as he no longer felt the uncomfortable cold on his thighs.

Nagito hummed beneath him, too dazed to properly reply. Nagito's hands started speeding up, eager to please his boyfriend more. Hajime started to lose control of his actions as his mind began to feel dizzy at the pleasure. The brunette's hands slowed down and the boy between his legs started to feel more confident. Nagito's free hand moved to caress the inside of Hajime's thigh, slowly inching up to his waistband. Hajime let Nagito take over, his hand now lazily resting on Nagito's. Both of the boys quickly became impatient, the need for skin-on-skin contact growing by the second. Nagito gave in and pulled Hajime's waistband down, the other boy wiggling his way out of his pants. They wasted no time and pulled his boxers down allowing Hajime's dick to spring free.

Nagito wrapped his hand around Hajime, slowly stroking him. He let out a low groan as if he was the one being pleasured. He dragged his index finger over the tip of his cock, spreading precum up and down. He leaned closer, flicking his tongue against the tip. Intoxicated by Hajime's taste, he moved his tongue in a circular motion, wanting to taste more. He pulled away, a string of saliva and precum connecting him to Hajime's cock. He took a moment to look up at Hajime, who was completely lost in the pleasure. His head was tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks tinted such a bright color of red. Hajime's mouth was slightly parted and he was breathing heavily with beads of sweat running down his face. Nagito had seen him in many ways, but the way he looked in this moment was the most amusing. The former Ultimate Hope was above him, but yet Nagito was in control, making him a mess.

"I've barely even touched you Hinata-Kun...and look at you, already a mess for someone like me," Nagito whispered, lazily jerking Hajime off.

"Hah...you're a mess too Nagito." He breathed out, opening his eyes.

"Maybe but," Nagito paused to lick up his cock, "You're more of a mess than me."

Hajime did not even have time to reply when Nagito reached into the empty cup and pulled out an ice cube. He jolted up when he felt the ice against the tip of his cock.

"A-Ah! Nagito what are you doing?"

Nagito only hummed in response, continuing to slowly drag the ice up and down his cock. He ignored Hajime's question as he writhed in pain and pleasure. Hajime was propped up on his hands, looking down at Nagito, not sure if his moans were from the pain or pleasure. Nagito kept slowly dragging the ice up and down with a sly grin, that showed anything but good intentions. Hajime may have seen it as Nagito teasing him but, he was actually testing to see how Hajime would react to the ice. He looked up at Hajime, mischief plastered over his face- the shy, insecure boy he was moments ago, completely disappearing.

"What does it look like I'm doing Hajime?" Nagito finally replied in such a velvety tone, saying Hajime's name in such a lustful manner that he left the ultimate hope speechless.

There was no need to say anything more and Nagito resumed his actions. He dragged the ice over the tip once more before placing it back into the cup. Hajime watched in anticipation as Nagito wrapped his lips around his cock. The warmth of his mouth instantly soothing the painful cold. He traced his tongue up and down the trails of water left by the ice cube. He then took Hajime in his mouth, slowly moving up and down his cock at first. Hajime wrapped his hands in his hair, trying his best not to force Nagito further down. Nagito looked up at him as he went deeper, his cock hitting the back of his throat. Hajime stopped trying to hold his moans back, not caring anymore. Nagito lifted his head and went back down on his cock, or so Hajime had hoped. The other boy pulled away from Hajime and reached into the cup once again. Hajime immediately realized what Nagito was planning to do, but his thoughts cut off when he felt the ice cube against his dick again. The ice burned sweetly against his cock and he was a whimpering mess.

"Hehe, what cute noises you're making Hajime." Nagito teased the submissive Hajime above him.

"Shut up Nagito and just-"

"Hm? Just what Hajime?" Nagito asked before a playful idea popped into his head.

"You have to tell me what you want or else how would I know?"

Nagito was a person you needed to be direct with but this was different. He was purposely avoiding Hajime's needs. Hajime wanted to keep some of his dignity, but Nagito wasn't going to budge if he didn't hear what he wanted to.

"Fuck you Nagito, you never change," Hajime said to himself, before obeying Nagito's order.

"J-Just suck my dick already," Hajime replied in one breath, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wasn't trying to hear himself.

"Ah! The former ultimate hope begging for my filthy tongue around him!" Nagito remarked as if he was the one being touched.

This would be a strange sight for anyone else. Someone like Hajime was melting in his chair. Nagito was holding a melting ice cube on his dick while he somehow praised and degraded himself at the same time. However, Hajime couldn't care less. The ice became painful and his position in his chair was not easy on his back. He was not going to let Nagito get sidetracked after losing his dignity like that.

"Arent you supposed to be doing something?" Hajime looked sternly down on Nagito as he made sure to get his point across.

Nagito paused and smiled at him before placing the ice cube in the cup. He leaned into Hajime's cock once more and pressed his lips against his shaft. He licked up his cock, a trail of saliva and water being left behind. He flicked his tongue against the tip before taking in Hajime's cock once more. He wasted no time and started bobbing his head up and down. His hair fell in front of his face, blocking Hajime from viewing him properly. He tied his hands in his hair, moving his bangs out of his face to see his boyfriend go all the way down on his cock. Nagito looked up at him, eyes watery and clouded with lust. He moved up to swirl his tongue around the tip and moved his hand to stroke his shaft.

However, his hand was still cold from holding the ice. Hajime let out a shocked moan in response as Nagito continued his actions. He dragged his tongue up and down while his hand massaged the places his tongue couldn't reach, all while keeping eye contact. The stimulation of hot and cold was quickly bringing Hajime to his climax. His cold hand running up and down his cock. His warm tongue over his tip and shaft. His needy boyfriend looking up at him so lustfully. Hajime was already close to his orgasm. He was a breathy, moaning mess, both of his hands now forcefully holding Nagito's hair in a ponytail. Nagito was palming himself through his boxers while he worked his tongue and hands faster to bring Hajime to his orgasm. It only took a few more flicks of Nagito's tongue before Hajime was forcing his head further onto his cock as he came. Hajime's hips twitched and jerked as Nagito tried to swallow all of his seed, some spilling anyways. Nagito pulled away from Hajime as soon as his grip loosened on his head. He looked up at Hajime who eyes were shut, still panting from his orgasm. Eventually, he came to his senses and looked down at a messy Nagito. His eyes were heavy with desire, his hair even messier than it normally was, and cum dripped down the corner of his lips. The sight was enough to bring Hajime to a full erection again.

Hajime opened his mouth to say something but he was still trying to steady his breathing. He bent down to place his palm on Nagito's cheek. He wiped the cum off Nagito with his thumb. His thumb lingered on his lips, cleaning feeling like a secondary concern. Nagito turned his head slightly to suck Hajime's thumb in, licking the cum off. The brunette froze for a second which allowed Nagito to push past his hand and sit on his lap.

"Ah- Nagito wait a sec," Hajime stuttered but Nagito didn't listen.

He tried to speak up again but his words turned into a moan when he felt Nagito's teeth against his neck. He felt slender hands grip his hair, pulling his head back to give Nagito better access to his neck. Nagito started rocking his hips back and forth while sloppily marking Hajime. Nagito was dominating Hajime and he was having a hard time protesting. Luckily, as more time passed, Nagito was slowly losing his dominance to pleasure. Instead of hungrily biting at Hajime's neck, he was now quietly whining. Hajime felt Nagito's hand loosen and took that opportunity. He gripped the other boy's hair and forcefully pulled him away from his body. Hajime thought that he was probably a little too rough but Nagito's expression said otherwise.

"H-Hinata-Kun?" Nagito yelped but he quickly realized his intentions, "I'm sorry I-"

"Be quiet."

Nagito froze in place. It was as if those two words sent Nagito into a deep subspace. He looked at Hajime with wide eyes of anticipation and obedience. Hajime smiled at himself, proud that he had control now, and that his shaky attempt worked. He regained his composure as the dominant and sat up straight. He loosened his grip on Nagito's hair, still holding him in place, but enough to make Nagito relax a bit. He pulled Nagito down for a kiss as his other hand slowly started guiding his hips back and forth. He wasted no time in picking up the pace, making Nagito rock back and forth at a comfortable speed.

Nagito ran his hands all over Hajime's chest, just wanting- no, needing to feel more of him. They pulled away for a second to take Hajime's shirt off but were instantly back in their previous position. In Hajime's eyes, Nagito was so adorable. He was grinding helplessly against him, face red and the cutest of whines. Hajime pulled away from the kiss to touch Nagito through his pants. He reached inside his boxers and pulled out his dick that was leaking with precum.

"A-Ah! Hinata-Kun!" Nagito whined as Hajime pressed his finger against the tip of his cock.

"Who's a mess for who now?" Hajime teased, leaning into Nagito.

Nagito just shook his head in response and Hajime shuffled his pants off him. He started jerking him off, somehow making Nagito even more flustered. Nagito fully melted into Hajime's touch and buried his head in his neck. He softly bit onto Hajime's shoulder, careful to not hurt him. Hajime bent his head down slightly to see his hands move swiftly along the other boy's cock. The two boys were quickly growing impatient. Not to mention, Nagito was still slowly grinding against Hajime. As much as Hajime loved to see Nagito like this, he pulled his hand away. Nagito whimpered at the loss of his touch but soon felt hands around his waist, picking him up. Hajime walked towards their bed and placed Nagito down.

Nagito said nothing and let Hajime be in control. Hajime positioned himself on top, brushing some of the hair out of Nagito face. His hand then fell to his shirt, tracing over the buttons before undoing them. He rubbed his hands over Nagito's bare chest before leaning down to place small kisses all over. He marked the delicate boy in every place his lips touched. Nagito's hands moved to play with Hajime's nipples, trying to pleasure him as well. Hajime continued his actions, biting and kissing him. He was taking his sweet time with Nagito, despite being impatient a few moments ago. He was appreciating his boyfriend through his actions- through his kisses. Nagito didn't mind at all. He loved receiving affection like this from Hajime, especially since he needed reassurance like this from time to time. However, this moment didn't last forever, as their dicks were still hard and they were still horny as ever.

"Hinata-Kun..," Nagito whispered and Hajime pulled away.

He looked at Hajime with pleading eyes and a small frown. Hajime had caught on and would've gladly given into his pleas but, he looked like he had more to say.

"What's wrong Nagito?" Hajime asked in an attempt to edge Nagito along.

The other boy paused for a second, before speaking up, "I...need you."

"....Inside me," He whined, turning his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

Hajime paused for a second. Taken aback by Nagito's state.

"Fuck. Okay."

Hajime closed his jaw that had opened unknowingly before he immediately pulled away. As if he was possessed by lust, he reached into the nightstand and was back above Nagito. He had a bottle of lube and applied a generous amount on his hand. He pushed his finger in, feeling Nagito stretch around him. He slipped in another finger with ease, the heat, and moans of Nagito spurring him on to move his fingers faster. As Hajime thought he had prepared Nagito enough and was about to pull away, Nagito impatiently spoke up.

"Hinata-Kun...," Nagito whimpered, almost sounding like a sob, "Please..."

Hajime chuckled and pulled out his fingers, "Desperate arent you?"

"Maybe I should tease you a little more hm?" Hajime taunted despite wanting to slam into Nagito this instant.

Nagito shook his head rapidly as he wanted Hajime inside him right now.

"Haha alright alright," Hajime complied as he spread Nagito legs apart.

He positioned himself, looking down at Nagito who eagerly waited. Hajime started to slowly push himself in only to be met with more pleas from Nagito. He was almost surprised at how impatient he was. Amused, he lifted Nagito's legs and slammed into him, almost as if Hajime was rewarding him. Nagito screamed out, making Hajime worried that he had hurt him. He looked down to make sure he wasn't in any pain only to be met with a Komaeda that was lost in pleasure. He was looking at Hajime through his bangs, cheeks red, and eyes that just begged Hajime to keep going.

Reassured, Hajime started moving in and out, gradually picking up the pace. With the feeling of Nagito's warmth around him, the tightness that sucked his cock in, the lewd noises from both of them, Hajime was already dizzy with pleasure. Nagito hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him down. He kissed Nagito, muffling both of their moans. He slipped his tongue past, sloppily kissing each other. Nagito hands found their way to his hair, keeping Hajime's head in place. He only let Hajime pull away for air, before pulling him back into the kiss. Nagito let one of his hands fall and grabbed Hajime's own. Nagito guided their hands down his body before reaching his cock. Hajime let the needy boy guide his hands, finding him amusing. Nagito started jerking himself off but quickly lost the energy to do so, letting Hajime take over. He let Hajime pull away from the kiss and let him focus on their hands. His hand started moving at the same pace, overstimulating the boy beneath him. Nagito raked his free hand up and down Hajime's back, his name being the only words Nagito knew to say.

"Hah...fuck you're such a mess Nagito," Hajime spoke up, slowing down a little bit.

It was quiet, almost silent, but Nagito chuckled softly through his moans, "Only for you Hinata-Kun."

He pulled Hajime back down for a short kiss. They kept eye contact for a second before Hajime smiled and pulled away, "Guess I'm the lucky one now huh."

"Shut up," Nagito whined and turned away.

Hajime smiled and picked back up his previous pace. He lifted Nagito closer, causing his cock to go deeper. The tip of his cock brushed against Nagito's prostate causing his back to arch off the bed.

"There! Hinata-Kun!" Nagito cried out, begging for Hajime to reach that spot again.

The brunette listened to his pleas and angled himself so that he was now repeatedly thrusting into his prostate. Nagito let out a string of "yes" before his words slurred together, losing himself to Hajime's thrusts. Nagito's nails dug into his shoulder and Hajime was sure that it had left a mark. Hajime's dizzy mind caused him to bury his head in Nagito's neck, biting lightly.

"H-Hinata-Kun...your hand," Nagito managed to stutter out and Hajime pulled away.

Nagito pulled his hand away from his dick and held Hajime's hand. Hajime bent back down, moving their hands above Nagito's head. He started moving again, holding tightly onto Nagito. As much as he hated to admit it, Hajime was close. He wanted to bring Nagito to his high first so he slowed down, edging himself so he doesn't cum yet. Thankfully for him, Nagito was also close. It only took a few more thrusts for Nagito to reach his orgasm, letting out a shriek as his back arched off the bed. His walls clenched around Hajime which was enough for him to also reach his high, thrusting a few more before emptying himself inside Nagito. Regaining his senses, he pulled out of Nagito, a small whine of disapproval escaping from him. Both of them were breathing heavily, still feeling the rush of their orgasm. Hajime looked down at Nagito who was not quite connected with reality yet. They were both a mess, Nagito being worse with cum splattered on his chest, bite marks on his skin, and tears staining his face. They were still holding hands except Nagito's grip had loosened. Nagito was the first to speak up despite still trying to steady his breathing.

"Did I...make you...feel better?" He asked in a tone that was mixed with 'just came' and 'self-loathing'.

It only took Hajime a second to realize that he was referring to his work earlier.

"Hah...yeah you did," he praised and planted a kiss on Nagito's forehead," You did amazing Nagito."

Hajime rested his palm on Nagito's cheek and he nuzzled into his touch. He moved his hand up to brush the hair out of Nagito's face, whose eyes were closed, simply enjoying Hajime's presence. Nagito looked so peaceful. He had a soft smile and he looked genuinely happy at that moment. He was happy to be with Hajime, happy to have someone who cared for him, happy to be loved for once. Hajime poked Nagito's cheek lightly, making him open his eyes.

"Oi don't go falling asleep we have to get you cleaned."

Nagito eyes widened before letting out a disappointing sigh Hajime knew too well, "You never change huh? You're still annoying as ever."

"Haha, that's why you love me though." Hajime jeered causing Nagito to roll his eyes.

Hajime tried to pull away when Nagito hands snaked around his neck and pulled him back down. Hajime's face fell into Nagito's chest, letting out a shocked noise. Nagito rolled them over so that they were now both laying on their sides.

"Nagito?" Hajime asked muffled against his chest.

"Let's stay like this for a while," Nagito replied quietly, almost as if he felt guilty for asking this.

Hajime positioned himself so that Nagito was buried in his chest, "We can stay like this for as long as you want."

Hajime couldn't see, but he knew Nagito had smiled. He pulled him closer, one hand wrapped in Nagito's hair, lightly scratching his scalp. The AC had cooled them off a bit and it left a peaceful atmosphere. Hajime pressed his lips against Nagito's forehead as if trying to convey all the words he left unsaid. They did exactly as Nagito requested, enjoying each other's company before eventually having to clean up the mess they made.

#smut #danganronpa #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #komahina #sdr2 #nagito smut #danganronpa smut #hajime smut

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pedros-mustache · 4 years ago

Note

Wait... WAIT okay hold on w a I t. Can you just imagine.... I’m back on this yoga!Din shit (who am I kidding, I never left), so imagine this is sometimes after their first, shall we say, interaction. Imagine—

Another man comes into the class for the first time since Din’s started taking it. Some other guy struts in, and of course— because it’s her job— the yoga instructor puts her hands on him and adjusts him and touches him, and Din knows— rationally— he knows he shouldn’t be jealous; it shouldn’t make him angry, but it fucking does. He’s simmering under his skin as she trails her hand across this other man’s wrist, like how she’s done to him—he can almost feel the ache of it on his own— how she coos pretty nothings into his ear. This asshole even has the audacity to make her laugh. He’s rolling up his mat and is saying something that must be goddamn hilarious and makes her laugh— and fuck, what a sound it is— And AND AND can we just imagine... how he fucks her after. The raw possessiveness of it. Fucking her into the mirrored wall and making her beg for him. I just I’m sorry I gotta go bye- can u please elaborate THANKS THANK YOU

anyway, here we go. this is part of the yoga!din world that erikka has dragged me into kicking and screaming. find the other thoughts under the yoga!din tag on both our blogs! we are straying into plot with these so beware of us both

warnings for: slight degradation, jealous!din out the whazoo, slight dom!din too i guess idek (18+ only get out of my house)

he’s slow to approach after class ends.

he always bides his time, tries to catch a few minutes with her before her next class bustles in, perfectly coiffed and bedecked in pearls like they aren’t about to spend the next hour with their asses in the air. it’s in those few moments—those precious few moments—that he tries, really fucking tries, to make a good impression. since the first time he fucked her on this floor, he’s wanted her—wanted her pussy, yes, but now it’s more.

now, din just wants her.

he thinks the guy hanging back at the front of the classroom is named ralph. maybe rob. din wasn’t really listening when she introduced the new addition to the five-fifteen beginners yoga class. he was too focused on not going crosseyed with a sick, possessive rage.

the entire class he watched her. like a fucking hawk intent on its prey, he watched her. which, on its face, is not altogether different from any other night. he watches her so he can transition from pose to pose without falling over; he watches her so he can lift or stretch a limb without throwing out his back. she’s his teacher, first and foremost, and the yoga has helped soothe his irritated muscles and the consistent roiling pit of anger in his stomach.

but he also watches her because she’s glamorous, cheeky, downright fuckable. she know it, too; he’s sure of that now. she knows how good her ass looks in those tights, and she knows that if she bends forward just so he gets a full glimpse down the front of her tank-top. he knows that she hovers her hand over the dip in his spine for a reason. sometimes—most of the time—she doesn’t even touch him, but it’s just the heat of her palm hanging over his body that makes his face screw up tight and his mind falter in concentration.

three times he’s had her sprawled out beneath him, that effortlessly smug look on her face replaced by the perfect circle of her mouth when she hits her peak. she may be in control for the sixty minutes of class, but the moment she turns, slick water bottle in hand, cocking her head slightly, eyes gleaming with want, he’s the one in charge. she knows that, too.

tonight, din watches from the back of the room while ralph—rob?—new guy takes his time. his fingers make firm indents in the soft, squishiness of his mat. they’re laughing—probably about something stupid, something din doesn’t understand, like seven dollar smoothies that taste like grass. his jaw hardens when she leans in and touches new guy’s elbow.

there’s part of din that thinks she could simply be urging new guy to the door. her next class starts in fifteen minutes, and the old biddies like to be early. the other irrational, totally consuming side of din thinks she’s doing this on purpose. always playing a fucking game.

he stands from his crouch and shoves the sweaty mat under his arm. he’s not in the mood, not tonight. his bare feet slap on the polished floor, and he watches his shoulders expand in the reflection of the mirror.

“can i talk to you?”

new guy’s head snaps to the side at the sound of din’s hard, unyielding voice. he’s shorter than din, not by much, but enough that his eyes have to tilt upwards.

new guy huffs. he glances at her then back at din. he pushes away from the wall where he’s been leaning the last five minutes, nonchalant, greedy. “we were just—”

she glances at the clock hanging over the door, tilting on one foot nearer din. he can smell the sweat clinging to the back of her neck. “actually, chris, i need to freshen up before my next class.” with all the grace of a royal, she touches new guy’s arm, offers him a dazzling smile that leaves din’s lungs struggling for breath. “you understand? i’ll see you next week.”

chris (nowhere near close to rob) nods and hoists his tote bag over his shoulder. his gaze slides to din. his eyes narrow—slightly, but enough for din to notice. din notices everything.

“see you next week, man.” chris slaps din’s shoulder, his bravado clearly failing in the charged energy bouncing between din and her. he tries, though; that has to count for something, and din is never one to snort at resilience in the face of defeat.

chris leaves. the door shuts with a soft click behind him. din turns to her, but she speaks first.

“i wasn’t lying, din. i gotta freshen up.”

“okay, i’ll come with you.”

she arches a brow, bent at the waist to pick up a hand-towel from the floor. “i wasn’t really inviting you.”

“i wasn’t really looking for your invitation.”

her chest lifts on a hard inhale. the curve of her bra—dark blue—peeks out from beneath her gray tank-top. he blinks, holding her stare.

with a hard swallow, she turns on her heel and opens the studio door. it’s cool in the hallway, so unlike the cloistered air of the studio after ten bodies have huffed and puffed in awkward positions for an hour. the air-conditioning almost chills din’s hot blood, but when she turns, gives a wave to chris, hovering by the front desk, he nearly melts on spot, blood gone to lava.

he grabs her elbow and squeezes. “get in the bathroom.”

down the hall, past the main office, empty now. past the small kitchenette; the light above the sink flickers. the single bathroom at the end of the dark hall. she turns the knob, slowly, slowly, always a fucking game.

impatient, din smacks his fist against the weak door. it swings open on a whine, and she falls inside when he nudges the small of her back with his opposite hand.

“din, my class—”

he shuts the door, locks it, flicks on the light. god, this place is a wreck. all the court would pay for, considering. cracked coral tile covers the floor and half the walls. the single light fixture barely illuminates the room. a small basket of toiletries on the back of the commode do little to take away from the twenty years of grime clinging to every surface.

din doesn’t care. this place—it brought him to her.

still, he’s vibrating with something unnameable. he wants her—badly. his cock is hard already, straining against his basketball shorts. but it’s more than that. he doesn’t want her touching new guy or any guy that’s not him. her touches, her smiles, her laughter—it’s his. he wants it to be his.

but he can’t very well tell her that. not with his past.

“i don’t care about your class.” it’s the honest to god truth. he doesn’t care, not tonight. “come ‘ere.”

taking her elbow in hand once more, he pulls her back from the center of the room and twists. her back thumps against the door, the door itself loose in the frame, and he looks up. that could prove a problem. he might be a jackass, but he knows her: she’s private about this. the old ladies in the hall don’t need to hear how hard she moans when she creams on his cock.

he meets her eyes, sees the ever-present challenge there, and it snaps his resolve in half. always a fucking game. he’s tired of the game tonight.

with one hand grasping her elbow, pinning her to the door, he slides his palm down the front of her leggings with little preamble. his fingers are long. he finds the apex of her cunt with ease, and he slips one finger through her folds. he glances down.

“shit, you’re wet.” he swirls his middle finger through the juices coating her pussy. so fucking sticky. “did he do this to you?”

she lifts her head from the door, eyes hazy with desire now. the challenge is gone. “what?” her breathy voice, so similar to the tone she uses in class, used now because his finger is knuckle-deep in her cunt makes his cock throb.

“i said: did he do this to you? did he make this fucking wet?” withdrawing his finger, there’s a squelch, and she bites the inside of her cheek, chest flushed in shame. din replaces the single finger with two.

“who? ch-chris?”

din scissors his fingers. she stifles a moan with her bottom lip and grabs his shoulder. “don’t say his name.”

“i—holy shit...” her head drops forward when his thumb circles her clit, his fingers pumping in and out and in and out at a leisurely pace.

removing the hand clutching her elbow, din frames her face with his palm, thumb on one side of her jaw, pointer finger on the other. he holds firm. “i asked you a question: who made you this wet? you sound like a fucking whore, feel like one too.”

“it wasn’t...” she shakes her head as her hips begin to grind down, down, down against his fingers. “wasn’t him.”

“then who?”

“you,” she gasps. “oh fuck, right there.”

din stills, drops his hand from her face, straightens his spine. he slides his hand from her warmth and stares at her, dumb, mute, ears ringing. “what?”

it’s her turn to be pissed. she frowns, squirming against the door. “why did you stop? i was gonna—”

“what did you say?”

maybe it’s something in his tone, or something on his face, but her expression clears, and she stops writhing. she tilts her head in earnest then says, “it was you, din. i’m—fuck, i’m always wet around you.”

he blinks.

“you make me so hot and bothered. it’s completely unprofessional, but, shit, you always—” she shakes her head, and a lock of hair falls in front of her her eyes. he resists the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “i can practically feel you stripping me with your eyes all class, and it should piss me off, but it makes me so fucking wet.”

“i thought you—” he snaps his mouth shut, unsure of where the sentence might lead.

for a simple moment, a long moment, he stares at her. she stares at him. in the hallway, he can hear her next class shuffling about, making tea in the kitchenette, gossiping and chattering like old crows.

he grabs a fistful of her tank top and yanks her forward. she doesn’t have time to gasp before he’s swallowing her surprise with his mouth. her hands fumble on his shoulders, his hips, the waistband of his shorts.

“don’t have long,” he huffs.

“it’s enough.” she pushes his shorts down as he wiggles the tight band of her leggings over her ass.

his tongue smoothes over hers, gentle and soft, as he lifts from beneath her ass and pushes her back against the wall. he kisses her as deeply as he can, says everything he can with his lips. he hopes she understands.

when she wraps her manicured fingers around his cock, he almost shatters. he mouths over her jaw, down her neck, sucking on her pulse point.

“be quick,” she whispers, lining the leaking head of him at her entrance.

tonight, he won’t have a problem with that.

face hidden in the crook of her neck, he slides to the hilt of her in one easy thrust. she threads one hand through his hair, grips the thick strap of his own tank with her other hand. her legs lock around his back.

“so fucking tight,” he mutters.

“fuck, din.”

he drags his cock out before slamming it back in her pussy. her back thumps against the wall, her cunt gives another wet squelch, din sees stars.

it’s a quick tumble. din hardly removes his cock after that initial thrust. short, snappy thrusts, his pubic bone brushing against her sensitive clit. she clenches down hard on his length, her breasts bouncing against his chest as she holds onto his shoulders for support. she’s gasping, whining in his ear. he’s talking, unaware of his own words.

“hate when you play that game, girl. your mine. this pussy is mine.” he grinds his cock upwards, and a sliver of a moan falls from behind her lips. “you know that right? say it. say you know it.”

she nods, and when he squeezes her hips, she breathes out a hurried, “i know it.”

“shit fuck, you are tight.”

“for you, baby. just for you.”

din cums. he would be embarrassed, but the orgasm rips through him like a shockwave, quick and devastating. he bites down on her shoulder to keep from crying out. she removes the hand gripping the curls at the base of his neck and finds her clit, rubbing frantic circles over the swollen bud until she too must bite her tongue to hide any evidence of her pleasure. din’s cock stirs when the warmth of her cum gushes around his length.

she laughs at that, smooths sweaty hair away from his forehead. “no time.”

din wants to kiss her, but he doesn’t. he only kisses her when they find another after class, desperate for a quick fuck. his window has closed, but his lips tingle with desire.

they’re quiet as they return their clothes to rights. she runs a paper towel under the sink, smoothes it over the inside of her thighs and the outer-shell of her pussy. she catches him staring in the reflection of the faded mirror.

“they may be old, but i know they know what cum smells like.”

din huffs.

they walk side-by-side to the door of the studio. the clock hanging at the opposite end of the office reads near seven. she’s late, but only just.

at the door of the studio, she turns. her mouth opens; he leans forward, heart hammering in his chest. someone inside calls her name when she cracks the door open, half-inside, half-protected by his bulk, his warmth.

she looks over her shoulder at the sound, and the look on her face—that vulnerable look, the one he’s never seen before—fades. “see you next week?”

din nods. “yeah...” a lump rises in his throat. “next week.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #yoga!din #begone thot hours

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gale-gentlepenguin · 5 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 30 (12K Follower Special)

(Master Post)

I want to thank you guys for being so patient with this fic. Its hard to believe its been a year since I first wrote part 1. I have been agonizing over this part for so long, I hope you all enjoy it. PS, I would love to hear what you guys think. And please share it around.)

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila used her key to unlock the front door. She quietly entered only to see her mother smiling at her.

“I was wondering where you were. How is everything honey?” Her mother greeted.

Lila put on a smile for her and greeted her with a cheek kiss. She was not expecting to see her mother up. She would have sworn she would be asleep. The work at the embassy often left her mother drained, it was rare when she was up an about at night when she was home.

“I had to slip by the school. Make sure that I had everything I needed for tomorrow.” She answered.

“Studious as always. I am so proud of you.”

“Of course! If I want to be as amazing as you I have to keep up with my school work.”

Lila knew her mother would eat up the flattery. Her mother was a gullible woman that loved to be complimented. She was not stupid, but she was far too trusting. The brunette knew all too well that her mother had often had her kindness taken advantage of by others.

“I was listening to the answering machine messages, and I noticed your principal called. He says that he is glad to have you back from your leave of absence?”

Lila didn’t bother sweating the comment.

“It's an error with the school computer. Remember how my old school had similar issues? I will clear it up this week.”

“Of course. School systems don’t really change much wherever you go, we really need to discuss that at the next meeting.”

“Don’t worry Mamma, I am making the most of it.”

“Mia stellina I know you will. That is why I got you a gift.”

“Oh?”

Lila watched as her mother pulled out a small box that was gift wrapped. Handing it to her daughter.

“I am sorry I had been gone most of last week. Things have been hectic. What with the… oh you don’t need to worry about all that. I saw this on my way back and I was saving it for your birthday, but I figured now would be a good time.”

Lila opened the present to reveal a lovely silver bracelet, with a small charm in the shape of an eye mask. Her mother knew Lila had a love of masks and would make sure that if there was some place she went that was interesting, she would get her a mask from that place.

“Thank you, Mamma, it is lovely.” Lila hugged her mother. Managing to hide how little she actually cared about the gift.

“I knew you would love it. It will look so lovely on you when we go out to dinner with your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“The handsome blond model you told me about. Adrien?”

“Oh! Right. Yes of course. My boyfriend. Though I am not sure he will be able to have dinner with us anytime soon. His father has him on such a strict schedule.”

Mrs. Rossi frowned.

“We can work something out another time. I’d really like to meet him.”

“I’m sure he feels the same way.”

Lila began making her way to her room.

“I think I’m going to get ready for school tomorrow.”

“Alright dear, I will be here all day tomorrow, maybe I can swing by your school and we can have lunch together.”

“Sounds great. Looking forward to it.”

Lila closed the door to her room.

She let her fake smile leave her face as she looked at the bracelet.

Tacky

Lila didn’t hate the gift, no, she did like that her mother did take the time to get her something. She just wished her mother could have gotten her something better. But really, Lila couldn’t really expect much despite how hard her mother works.

Lila looked over the bracelet more, her mind wandering as she stared at the little mask charm. It looked reminiscent of the masks worn in Mascaraed balls. Lila had to admit it was very fitting.

Everyone wears masks. People sculpt a persona, a personality in which they deal with people. They wear it as best as they can. People often change their masks as they grow or go to new environments. Lila was well aware of that. She was practically a master of it at this point.

Even her sweet naïve momma wears a mask. The mask that she is happy and doing fulfilling work. Lila knows better than anyone that her mother was practically forced to take this position.

Being a diplomat to Paris was considered the worst option when given a choice. Considering how there are depressed supervillains that pop up and nearly destroy the city several times a week because of a Super Terrorist’s quest for jewelry. Lila remembered how her momma tried so hard to spin this into a positive light. How this was her first role as an ambassador and that if she proved herself, she could choose her next assignment. Lila would have rather had gone to any country other than France, even America was preferable and they have their own craziness to deal with. Nevertheless, her mother did her best to be cheerful as she was thrown into this.

Lila refused to be like that, one’s mask should be the person they want to be, not the person they have to be. She would try out a different persona with each place she went, and sure enough, she would leave with a fun experience just before everything went crumbling down. She would then start from scratch and no one was the wiser.

Paris turned out to be the best place for this, since everything here is so bizarre here, no one would think twice about looking into a lie that seems outlandish. So, Lila allowed herself to be a bit more reckless with her actions. She had to admit, that her carelessness now needed to be corrected, she had allowed herself to get too lax with how good things have been and it nearly blew her cover 3 times. She needed to fix things.

She snapped back to reality, staring at the bracelet. She still wasn’t a fan of the look, but it was still a gift from her mother.

She would wear it tomorrow for her lunch with her mother. But afterwards she can slip it into her bag or something and forget about it. Her mother would be back to being worked like crazy and forget about it after two weeks.

Her phone began vibrating, pulling her out of her thoughts.

She looked at the number and her eyes went wide. It was Alya.

Did that nosy reporter see her at the school?! No, that can’t be possible. She was likely calling about something else. The Italian exchange student took a calming breath and answered her phone.

“Evening Alya? Whats up”

“Hey girl.” Alya greeted with her usual cheery tone. Alya was doing her best not to be in a fiery rage right now, she needed to be calm. A good reporter keeps calm under pressure. “I am just working on an article for the Ladyblog. Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“Of course. So, if it’s for the Ladyblog it must be ladybug related. What do you want to ask about? I am an open book.” Lila matched the cheery tone Alya had given her, she was hiding her absolute disgust over the subject. Ladybug was one of the last people Lila wanted to talk about right now, especially with how that heroine left her locked in a closet during the last akuma attack.

“Oh, it’s about akumatization. You know, that thing with the butterflies that maniacal monster Hawkmoth does to people. I am writing an article of how it impacts people and with how close you are with Ladybug, I figured she might have leaked a detail or two that I wasn’t aware of. Do you mind answering some questions about it?”

This wasn’t a complete lie, Alya was writing about Akumatization, but it was about Lila’s times as an akuma specifically.

“Well I might have a detail or two that could be shared. Ask away!”

Lila knew she had already had a close call with Alya earlier this week, she didn’t want to give the reporter a single reason to think she was a bad person. She could lie about a thing or two if needed to ensure that this line was secure, until she left the girl dangling from a cliff.

“Great! Thanks for doing this. You are a life saver.”

“Glad I can help, so bring on the questions.”

“Right. First question, how many times have you been akumatized?”

Lila was about to answer three, once during her first time in Paris, once during Heroes’ day, and once during her day back, that of course wouldn’t be good. She had said during Heroes’ day she was on a leave of absence outside of Paris. So that won’t do.

“Two. Once on my first day at Dupont, and the second time on my first day back.”

She is Lying

Alya had noticed the lie, Lila had been akumatized at least three times. Once was during her first day, the second time was at Heroes’ day because there were reports of Volpina among the akuma army. If Lila was out of France at that time, Volpina couldn’t have possibly been there. The day she got back had to have been her third time akumatized.

“I see, and during both of those times you felt intense emotional distress. Correct?”

“My memory is a bit fuzzy on them, but yes. I can say that I felt emotionally vulnerable.”

“As expected. And you have no memory of the activities you did while you were an akuma?”

“That is correct. If I was in complete control, there is no way I would have done such awful things.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t. Now this question is a bit more of a confirmation, something of a rumor among the Ladyblog. There is some speculation that if you accept the akuma willingly, you will maintain your memory of what happened while as an akuma. Is that something you can confirm?”

“Yes, Ladybug mentioned it once during a conversation. She was worried that Hawkmoth had some ‘Supporters’ that willingly did his bidding. I also believe if the person gives up the akuma willingly back to Hawkmoth they retain their memories during their time as an akuma. But I am not certain of that.” Lila added a touch of some truth to make it appear more legit that she and Ladybug are close. That is some personal information she discovered for herself. Lila was certain that this would ensure Alya trusted her.

Alya was certain Lila was willingly working with Hawkmoth and that she would never trust this liar ever again.

“Oh wow, that is very interesting. So just to assure the readers that you aren’t one of those followers. Have you ever accepted the akuma for yourself willingly?” Alya made sure the question had a lighthearted tone to come off as a joke.

Lila laughed.

“Willingly work with that butterfly creep? You would have to be someone with no empathy to even consider it.”

“One last thing, is it alright if I quote you in my article? If not, I will keep your name out of the…”

“By all means go ahead. I would love to be a part of your work if you want me to be.”

“Alright, I’ve got everything I need. Thanks again Lila. I should have this article out by tomorrow.”

“Anytime. I’m looking forward to reading it.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

Lila hung up the phone with a content smile.

She is none the wiser. I even did a little bit of good letting her in on that bit of information on Hawkmoth. That should send some good karma my way

Lila smiled as yawned suddenly. She decided now would be a good time for bed.

_______________________________________________________________________

Alya smiled as she made sure she was off the call.

“Thanks Lila, you have no idea how much help that was.”

She had transcribed the interview into her article as she was talking with the liar.

She read through it to make sure there were no errors

“Alright, and this will be up tomorrow morning after first period.”

She scrolled up to the top page of the article which read:

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

“Now to add the last few edits before going to bed.”

_______________________________________________________________________

The ride back to the Dupain Bakery was quiet for most of it. It seemed to fly by as the two teens held hands while the large mountain of a man drove them back.

Everything felt so surreal. A wonderful breakfast, a pleasant time of checking out the latest exhibits of the Louvre, a peaceful stroll through the park, an intense session of ice skating, and the dramatic confession on the top of the Eiffel tower which did not go as expected, but still went over very well.

“Marinette.”

“Yes Adrien?”

The blond model felt his face heat up a bit as he tried to speak up.

“So… I guess we can cancel that idea of talking things over in a week.” Adrien said with a nervous laugh.

“Yea… I suppose so.” She giggled.

The two were both happy with how things turned out, but both were still sort of shocked on what to do now.

“How are we going to tell the others? Should we text them so they aren’t stunned?”

“I think this is something that would be better told in person.”

“You mean bragged about?” Adrien teased.

“Maybe.”

The two blushed at this before laughing more. They felt like toddlers that were let loose in a candy store. Excited and bubbly.

“So, we tell them tomorrow then?”

“Yes,”

“Alright, sounds like a plan.”

The limo stops, causing the two to move slightly forward but their seatbelts kept them from moving off the seat.

“I guess this is my stop.”

“Let me get the door for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“And what gentleman would I be if I didn’t help a Lady out of the car?”

Marinette’s eyes went wide for a moment. The way he said that rang familiar. But she shook that out of her head. She was going to stop comparing him to chat noir.

Adrien didn’t notice the brief blank out as he got out of the car to open her side.

Marinette got out of the vehicle and gave him a smile.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

“Shall I walk with you to the door?”

Marinette gave the polite gentleman teen a kiss on the cheek.

“Here is good enough. If you walked with me to the door, My Parents would likely invite you in, and your father would be upset if you were gone any later than necessary”

“Very true.”

Adrien mentally cursed at the fact that his father had a stick up his ass the size of the Eiffel Tower.

“Good night Marinette.”

“Good night Adrien.”

Marinette walked to her door and used her key to enter the bakery.

Once the door was closed, Adrien went back into the limo, he closed the door and sighed happily.

“It’s a beautiful night.”

The driver said nothing as he began driving the boy home, but he did have a small ghost of a smile on his face.

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette closed the door behind her before sliding down with a loving sigh. Her legs were jelly.

Her kwami flew out of her bag.

“Seems everything went well.” The ladybug kwami commented with a sly smile.

“I’m dating Adrien Agreste.” Marinette stated blissfully. Her eyes were sparkling as if she had found the 8thwonder of the world.

“I am so happy for you Marinette. I knew you could do it.”

“This must be a dream. All of this is some dream, I’m still in bed and I slept through my alarm. Adrien is actually downstairs waiting and probably regretting every… OW!”

Marinette noticed her kwami had pinched her hand.

“Tikki! Why did you do that?!”

“To prove you were awake.”

Marinette paused before going back to her joyous expression.

“Its real!”

The kwami loved seeing her chosen so happy.

“We should probably head upstairs, you have to tell your parents all about it. I believe your dad was keen on finding out details.”

“Right! I have to tell them everything.”

Marinette had so many people she wanted to tell. Her parents, Alya, the girls, Chat noir…

She felt herself stop.

“Marinette?”

“I’ll have to tell Chat noir.” Her feelings felt a bit jumbled now that this thought was given life. And something told her this would not be as much fun as telling the others, whether it was because of how he would feel or how she feels about it.

“That can wait another time, you can’t just lay on the bakery floor.” Tikki commented, trying to change the mood.

“Good point, I should probably get up.”

Marinette knew she would have to tell the cat sometime, but there would be a right time and place. Right now, was a time to be happy and enjoy the fact that she was dating her crush.

_______________________________________________________________________

Adrien arrived home to see Nathalie waiting at the door.

“And how was your day with Miss Dupain Cheng?” Nathalie inquired, her usual monotone hid her genuine interest.

The blond smiled a bit.

“You will be seeing her around me a lot more, I will need to work with you to rearrange my schedules if I want to be able to have time with her.”

“I see. I will see what I can do.”

“Is father…”

“He is occupied with work, you’ll be able to tell him about your day during your scheduled dinner this upcoming Friday.”

Adrien’s smile faltered slightly, he thought things were going to be different with how his father had shown sudden interest in his life the other day. But this was likely for the best.

“Thank you, Nathalie. I will be heading to my room. Have a good night.”

“You too Adrien.”

Adrien headed to his room. Despite his father’s absence on the matter, he was still in a good mood and he would not let the distance get to him.

His smile blossomed once his door was closed and his kwami companion bursted out of his pocket

“Well done Romeo, you got the girl.” The cat kwami congratulated his wielder as he moved to his stash to help himself to some cheese.

“It’s kind of hard to believe it’s real. It feels like a dream. I didn’t think I could be this happy, Plagg.”

“Well good, you deserve to be happy considering all the crap you go through.” Plagg stated as he found a nice chunk of Camembert with extra stink.

Adrien laid back on his bed, he could just revel in the warmth of this day for a while.

“I wonder how everyone will react to finding out. I kind of want to text Nino and let him know.”

“I don’t really understand the big deal with this reveal stuff. You are acting like this is an unmasking ceremony or something.”

Plagg realized his words may not have been wisely picked.

“That’s right, I will need to let Ladybug know.”

Adrien was silent, his expression hard to read as his words hung in the air.

“You are okay with all of this right?” Plagg asked.

“I did say that no matter who was under that mask, I would love that girl. I meant it, but there are many different types of love. It doesn’t need to be romantic. I think it took me some time to realize that.”

Plagg chomps on to his cheese.

“Well, as long as you are sure.”

Adrien stretched.

“I should get ready for bed”

“Why? It’s still early.”

“I don’t want to be tired when I see Marinette tomorrow.”

Plagg rolled his eyes at the soft smile on the blond’s face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but you are actually cheesier then cheese.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“Okay Kim, I get it. The guy in the show modified himself to look like a cucumber.”

“Max, you aren’t even listening! It was a pickle! A pickle, Max! I swear it is the funniest…”

Max was distracted. By his phone vibrating.

“Hold on Kim, I got a text from Alya, it might be urgent. I will have to call you back.”

“That’s cool, but I am showing you that clip. It is hilarious. “

Max secretly thankful that he had an excuse to hang up. He loved his friend, but he had weird taste.

Max looked at the text.

Everything is set up, make sure that the mass email goes up after first period starts. We need to have everyone is in class.

Max understood. he would adjust the time that everything got sent out.

Affirmative, Any other last-minute requests?

Max waited for a snarky reply from Alya.

Nah, we’re good. Thanks Again.

Max sent a thumbs up emoji and put the phone to the side.

“Markov. Adjust the timing of the mass email to 15 minutes after first period.”

The robot turned his mechanical screen to his creator.

“Consider it done”

“Thanks Markov.”

Max took a deep breath and called Kim back.

“So, you were saying about the pickle.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Lila assumed she would be the first to arrive at school. She had made sure to get up earlier than usual so she could slip into the school and make sure everything was set up. To her surprise, she had found the classroom had two students sitting at their desks.

“Alya, Nino. You’re both here early.” Lila did her best not to sound mad about it.

Nino yawned as he drank from the coffee that he had bought with Alya before coming.

“Alya was so hyped about today she couldn’t sleep. So, She called me this morning and asked for a coffee date to help keep her awake.”

Alya was snoozing on her desk face first.

“Maybe get a double shot for her, she seems really exhausted. Wait was this about that paper for the ladyblog she was writing?”

“Wait you know about that?” Nino’s eyes wide, how did Lila know about the article? Was this plan going to backfire? Nino wasn’t sure if he said too much.

“Yea, she called me last night to answer a few questions. She was pretty excited about it. I suppose an article about akumatization would be popular.”

Nino eased himself, it’s clear Lila did not know what was in the article.

“Ah, well she was working on it all weekend.”

“Knowing Alya, that article will be exactly what she needs to get buzz on the blog.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Lila strolled up to her seat, it was clear the exhausted Alya and Drowzy Nino didn’t notice the evidence she had planted under Marinette’s chair. Lila smiled as she thought about how well today would go.

Lila pulled out her stuff and began to survey the classroom. Everything was set up exactly as she had done yesterday. All she needed to do was wait for everyone to show up, and then let the plan go into motion.

Nino sat at his desk, he was pretending to not be paying attention, but he was keeping watch of the devious liar. Lila was sneaky, and his girlfriend was in the middle of a power nap to be observant. Of course, he knew he wasn’t the most convincing fibber, so he would need to be subtle in keeping a close eye on the liar.

Lila had gotten up from her desk and left the classroom for a brief moment. She felt herself shudder.

What is this chill I’m getting, something doesn’t seem right with those two… are they suspicious?

Lila shook the thought out of her head. It was clear that they were just tired, likely on edge from lack of sleep. Getting paranoid would lead to her getting sloppy again. She needed to play this right. Today was the day everything started going her way again.

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette was bubbly on her way to school. She couldn’t wait to tell Alya and the girls all about what happened yesterday. She knew that Alya would probably be over the moon, and something like this could only be said in person, texting would ruin the moment.

“Marinette, you might want to slow down.” Tikki pipped up from her bag. “I think someone is nearby.”

The designer slowed her pace a bit.

Marinette closed her bag and turned around to see a blond teen running up to her.

“Adrien?”

Marinette stopped to let the boy catch up.

“I… I wanted to surprise you at the bakery.” He said between breaths. “I wanted to walk with you to school.”

Marinette felt her cheeks warm at the statement.

“But I … miscalculated how far you were from my house and to make up for time… I sprinted.”

“You usually have your bodyguard drive you to class. Is your father okay with you walking to school?”

Adrien finished catching his breath.

“He doesn’t know and it’s probably better that he doesn’t, but I let my bodyguard know in advance. He seemed fine with it… Just as long as I message him when I am at school.”

“Sneaking out of the house to meet with a girl, I didn’t know I was dating a badboy.”

Adrien looked at Marinette with surprise until he realized she was joking. He found himself chuckling.

“Now you know the truth, I also have a leather jacket in my closet.” Adrien said while doing his best to look tough to play up the ‘Bad boy’ look he was trying and failing to portray.

Marinette giggled at that lame attempt. Adrien loved that sound.

“I don’t think I can imagine that. Besides, I like good boys.”

Marinette started walking to school.

Adrien sighed happily before matching her pace to join her.

He reached out his hand to hold hers, still nervous about how to go about this dating thing. Sure enough, Marinette was more than happy to hold his hand.

______________________________________________________________________

“I’m up!” Alya exclaimed as she shot up.

“Aw man! Now the moment is gone. I was going to draw on her face.” A pink haired teen frowned, as she held an open marker in her hand but Nino was standing in between her and the formerly sleeping teen.

The reporter quickly gathered her bearings and looked at the smaller teen.

“Like hell you are going to mark up my face.”

“Well now that you’re awake it’s no fun.” Alix commented with dissatisfaction. “Maybe later.”

Alya rolled her eyes. She is too tired to deal with whatever Alix is up to.

“I’m glad you got up, I wasn’t sure I could hold her off any longer.” Nino sighed in relief.

Alya stretched in order to wake herself up from her lethargic state.

“Did school start yet?”

“Not yet, but most of the class is here”

“Anything suspicious with you-know-who?”

“She was the first one to arrive in class after us. She went outside for about 5 minutes then came back into her seat. After that, nothing weird.”

“Okay, and I guess you didn’t notice anything else.”

“Nothing”

“Okay, and why does Alix want to draw on my face so bad? Did she make a bet with Kim?”

“Kim bet her 10 Euros that she wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“She will be out some cash.”

Chloé walked into the classroom with Sabrina following shortly behind. It was apparent that the mayor’s daughter was in a mood.

She looked up to Max’s seat and moved her way up. The robot enthusiast didn’t realize she was there until she slammed her hand on his desk. The sudden action startled him and made him look up at the clearly driven teen.

“I did some digging about your little app.” Chloé spat with disgust.

It took Max a moment to figure out what she was referring to.

“Oh, you mean ‘Soulmate Searcher.”

“I know all about that Soulmate Survey bull crap.”

Max had lost interest in that whole thing after he had some more startling information revealed to him. He had even forgot about the argument he had with Chloé.

“Wait, you’re still hung up on that?”

“You were the one talking about how smart and junk it was. I had Sabrina do some digging.”

Max looked to Sabrina, the poor ginger haired girl had a rough night. Likely researching for Chloé.

“Look, I kind of moved past looking into it. So, let’s just agree to disagree and move on.”

Chloé glared at the glasses wearing teen and snapped her fingers.

On cue, Sabrina dumped at least a couple dozen pages on the desk.

Max really didn’t care about this right now, he had a much more important objective to focus on, this was an annoying distraction.

Astonishingly it was Nathanael that picked up a few of the articles.

“These are all written by the same guy.” The artist commented as he kept changing articles to see if there was a second opinion by someone else.

Curious, some of the other classmates moved to the pile of papers.

“Some of these are also old articles, like back when the app wasn’t even a thing here.” Myléne chimed in.

“One of the articles even has an author’s note on the bottom that says that this article holds inaccuracies that no longer apply.” Rose Quipped.

Chloé turned a fiery gaze at Sabrina.

“I told you to research thoroughly!”

“You told me to find anything that was written dismissing the app as fake. This was what I was able to find…”

Chloé grumbled.

“Whatever! I know that app is crap.”

Chloé stormed down to her desk and threw herself on her seat, only to hear a creaking noise and then fall with a painful slam to the floor. The loud noise blocking out the sound of the morning bell.

Chloé’s scream was loud enough to draw the attention of Miss Bustier who ran into the room.

“Is everyone alright? I heard a scream?” The young teacher clearly frantic with worry.

The class was silent as the teacher noticed Chloé on the floor clearly in pain from her bench seat that had fallen apart.

Lila was the first to speak up.

“Chloé’s seat fell apart.”

Lila dashed down to Chloé.

“Are you alright Chloé, that looked like it hurt.” Lila offered her hand to the fallen student.

Chloé took Lila’s hand up and grumbled as she covered her bruised tailbone.

“I want whoever made the seat fired and jailed!”

“It probably broke from the weight of your ego.” Juleka commented dryly.

Chloé turned to the long-haired teen with a grimace.

“I bet you did this you, emo freak!”

“Chloé! We do not insult our classmates.” Miss Bustier scolded. “I understand you are hurt from the fall, but it isn’t right to lash out at your classmates. Apologize to Juleka.”

Chloé moved turned away from the class with a huff.

“I am not saying anything until the jerk that destroyed my seat pays.”

Alya took notice that Lila was digging through the seat. What could she be…”

“Umm, I found something…” Lila’s words caught the classes attention.

Lila pulled out a hair tie that looked familiar.

“Isn’t that Marinette’s Hair tie?” Sabrina piped up.

‘That manipulative bitch! Lila did this!” Alya felt her thoughts scream at her.

“I knew that she was in on this! She made sure she wasn’t here to catch me off guard!”

“It could just be a coincidence.” Lila spoke out. “Marinette isn’t even here yet. It might have gotten lost under here by accident.”

Alya felt her mind screech, this wasn’t adding up, why would Lila bother with the hair tie? What was Lila planning?

Most of the class had gotten out of their seats to look to see the situation.

Max took a closer look at the collapsed seat.

“There are no breaks in the boards, and no screws or bolts to be found. I calculate a 98.7% chance that someone must have removed them from the chair. Someone did sabotage Chloé’s seat.”

The class gasped in surprise.

“I knew it! And I bet it was Marinette that did it!”

“Marinette would never do such a thing!” Alya jumped up. “I know my girl would not stoop to something like this, even if it is Chloé.”

“Perhaps we can check her locker. If there is nothing involving the seat we can clear her.”

“Wait! You can’t just invade Marinette’s privacy.”

Miss Bustier pondered for a moment.

“If we are going to search Marinette’s locker, she will need to be present. She should give her consent before we invade her space.”

“But if she is responsible she would obviously not want us to check!” Chloé shouted. “I will call my daddy and he will have the cops on the case!”

“T-That won’t be necessary!” Miss Bustier eased. She hated how much influence Chloé had thanks to her father’s position. She couldn’t just punish Chloé or simply tell her not to act out. Principal Damocles made sure to explain the delicate balance they had to maintain thanks to Chloé’s presence. She can’t teach her students if Chloé starts getting the police involved.

“I will discuss the concern with the Principal. I am sure he will make the right call and we will decide how to go about this. In the meantime, everyone please sit in your seats. Chloé, if you are still hurt, please have someone escort you to the nurse’s office.”

“I will not be leaving until I get whoever did this expelled.” Chloé hissed.

“In that case, sit in one of the open seats until we can get the seat fixed. Sabrina, you as well.”

The red head teacher made her way out of the classroom.

Chloé turned her attention to the class.

“Alright, I don’t care what Bustier says, Marinette clearly was responsible for destroying my chair and I want some justice!”

“Chloé, just because Marinette’s hair tie was under the desk doesn’t mean that she did it. Besides, when could she have done it?” Ivan pointed out.

“Well then who else could have done it?”

“To be fair, all of us pretty much hate your guts, it could be anyone.” Alix commented as she leaned back.

“So, you admit you did it!”

“I wish! But nah, this wasn’t my handy work. I would have signed it. Because that, would be art.”

The tomato haired artist chuckled at his friend’s comment. Alix gave him a quick fistbump.

Chloé growled.

“You have just as much of an idea who did this as we all do.” Myléne stated firmly.

“Sabrina!”

“Yes Chloé?”

“Who have I wronged in this classroom?”

“Um… everyone.”

“I meant recently.”

“Right… lets see…”

Sabrina went into her phone.

“You had that argument with Max about the app, insulted Myléne’s favorite charity and called the cause stupid, Told Rosé that the reason Prince Ali hasn’t written back to her in the last few weeks was because he was sick of her, told kim his swim cap makes him look like a bowling pin, mocked Nathanael and Alix’s art project collaboration, and… Oh! You also made fun of Marinette’s design sketches. I think that was it for last week. It was a light week.”

“So, there are the obvious suspects.” Chloé exclaimed with a smirk.

“Now if Marinette would get here we would have a perfect line up.”

Lila smirked at the little show, this was all going perfectly. Naturally Marinette would show up just as Miss Bustier got the principal involved. That would lead to the search of the designer’s locker, where Lila had expertly planted the screws and tools that she used to dismantle Chloé’s seat, along with items that she took from other lockers, including her own stuff to make sure Marinette got punished. Based on what she knew, that would be enough to get Marinette suspended, possibly expelled. Either one would work out wonderfully, and with that she could start destroying each person she cared about one by one.

“What about a line up?” a teen boy voice called out.

Chloé turned to see Adrien and Marinette entering the classroom.

The room was silent as the two teens walked in. The whole class watching the duo intently, as if seeing something quite shocking.

“Is something wrong?” Marinette inquired, looking around the room.

She noticed the dismantled bench seat.

“Chloé what happened to your seat?”

Chloé’s jaw opened as she approached.

“Forget the seat! What is this!” She gestured to the two with clear shock and disgust.

Adrien and Marinette look at the mayor’s daughter with confusion before looking at what she was gesturing to. The two realized they had been holding hands the entire time.

“Oh, I think we all know what it is.” Alya’s comment burst through the silence, a smug smile on her face.

“But it would be best to hear it from them.” Nino chimed in, assisting his girlfriend in the playful ribbing of their best friends.

Marinette and Adrien felt their faces turn red and they let go of the other’s hand.

“Well actually its uh, my hand was… I mean his hand was… I …” Marinette tried to get the words out but felt her mouth failing her.

Adrien put his hand on her shoulder.

“Is it wrong for a guy to hold hands with a girl he is dating?”

Marinette felt her heart in her ears as he said that.

Adrien then looks to Nino.

“It is right? Im still new to this and the shows I watched kind of made it a big deal so Im not sure.” He whispers.

Nino nods.

Adrien looks back at Chloé now more assured.

“This is ridiculous! Utterly Ridiculous!”

Chloé stomped away from the two, just unable to handle the truth.

The mayor’s daughter walked out the door complaining about how she was going to be sick at this.

The class quickly swarmed the around the new couple and Alya slipped back to allow the class to ask them questions. She would get the details later.

Lila felt herself seething despite the smile she had on her face. This was not how things were supposed to be going. Even with her plan, Marinette won’t be miserable.

“Not going in?” Alya asked,

“Huh? Oh, I am sure I can ask questions later. Everyone has been waiting on this longer then I have.” The brunette commented as she kept up her façade.

She would have a word with Gabriel about this… actually she might not have to. If her plan goes well, Gabriel would never let Adrien be with someone that could besmirch the Gabriel brand. If word got out that Adrien’s new girl was kicked out of school, the tabloids would rip the girl apart for her. That thought soothed her.

“Besides, we should be concerned about what happened with Chloé’s seat. Max did say it was sabotage. We should focus on getting to the bottom of that.”

Alya looked at the clock. She noticed with everything going on, it was well into first period.

“I think something more important will come up.”

Alya went back to her desk with a sly smile on her face.

Lila felt a chill go down her spine. What did she mean by that?

As if on cue, everyone noticed their phones going off.

The class stop asking the couple questions as they look at their phones, wondering what was with the sudden message

Lila quickly pulled out her phone. Her face went pale as she looked at the attachment titled.

‘The True face of Lila Rossi’

______________________________________________________________________

Mr. Damocles was staring at his computer with shock as Miss Bustier stood in the room.

“It’s unbelievable… the records that we were waiting on for Miss Rossi are all here.” The principle spoke in bewilderment.

The young teacher watched as Mr.Damocles looked through each file.

“So many reprimands… dozens of student and teacher complaints…. False doctor’s notes…”

“This can’t be real, right? Lila has been a good student. Sure, she had a leave of absence but that was because she was abroad with her mother.”

“These documents are all legitimate. They are all from the previous school Miss Rossi attended, she had failed to notify us of any of the following when she was enrolled here! We could never have accepted a student with such a notorious record.” The principal sternly noted.

“Mr.Damocles please, it could be possible that Miss Rossi was scared about the whole situation. Perhaps this was her chance to start things right.”

“Caline, your kindness and compassion for your students is quite admirable, however, these records still show that there was a lot Miss Rossi has been hiding from us. I will be requesting that she and her mother have a discussion with me. After that, we will decide on whether she can stay Dupont.”

“But what about the issue with Chloé’s chair?”

“You mentioned that Chloé is not injured? Then it can wait until after we sort things out with Miss Rossi.”

“Understood.”

The young teacher left the office, she began to start questioning her actions as a teacher. Was Lila really a bad egg? Was she an awful teacher for not realizing that Lila had been lying to her? She stopped at the door to her classroom when she heard the sound of her students talking.

______________________________________________________________________________

Lila could feel everything falling apart around her as she watched her classmates look at their phones with interest.

She needed to find a way out of this. She needed to think of something fast.

“Lila, is this true?” Nathanael asked in surprise.

The rest of the class looking up from their phones, their expressions a mix of anger, hurt and shock. Marinette and Adrien seemed to be the only ones that seemed unsurprised by the message.

Lila racked her brain for several seconds, until the perfect lie crafted itself in her brain.

Lila fell to her knees and started to cry.

“I thought I was free of that cyber bully from my old school…” Her words hitting the right notes.

“Cyber bully?” Rose spoke up.

Lila knew she had landed one person that was willing to believe. And much like a composer, she crafted her symphony of deceit.

“Yes, you see. Back at my old school, there was this guy I was friends with. He was a smart guy with computers, almost as smart as Max.”

“Wait, if you were friends, why is he bullying you?” Kim inquired.

Most of the class was being pulled in by Lila’s thread.

“He had a huge crush on me, while I did think he was nice, I just couldn’t see him as anything more than a friend. I told him that after he confessed to me. After that however, things started to turn bad. It started out with some minor things, a couple of spam emails, a text with a pop up scare. I could tell he was hurt so I didn’t call him out on it, I was sure he would heal and things could go back to normal… but then he started getting worse.”

“He started hacking into my phone, sending out messages to my other friends, making it seem like I hated them.” Lila made her voice more frantic, as if living through a trauma.

She could tell the class that had been looking at the phones with rage were now back under her thumb, she had them.

“I lost all of my friends, no matter what I tried to say, they shut me off. That guy destroyed my friend group. I went up to him and demanded he come clean. He refused, laughing as he insulted me. He had decided he was going to ruin my life.”

Kim went to the teacher’s desk to get Lila the tissue box.

Lila looked up at the swimmer.

“Thank you.”

She took a tissue to dab her eyes.

“The jerk then hacked into the school’s records, changing my grades, my attendence, he even messed with my medical records at the school! It was hell!”

“Lila…” Myléne moved to her side.

“So, when my Mom got the job to work at the French embassy here, I was so excited. I could finally get away from that cruel monster’s clutches… but so much for that! Now you all hate me and think I am this awful person!” Lila cried into her arms.

“We don’t think that!”

“Of course, we wouldn’t believe that!”

Lila hid her sinister grin as she heard the comments of her classmates. She had easily pulled the wool over their eyes. Much like before she had escaped the jaws of defeat with her deception.

Until the sound of her voice was coming from another source.

Lila looked up and felt the world shake as the horror she assumed she avoided was being undone by what she had gone so far to get rid of. The recording.

“Of course, it was all lies. Knowing Spielberg? Being friends with a prince? All of those outlandish lies and yet everyone ate it up so easily. I don’t know whether it’s something in la seine but everyone here is super gullible. Everyone in that class is stupid enough to believe anything! I didn’t even try to come up with clever lies. Have none of them even heard of Google? I was able to have them eating out of the palm of my hand like the sheep they are. So when I say I could ruin your life Marinette, I can ruin your life without even lifting a finger.”

Alya paused the recording.

“That… that isn’t me! That was clearly an edited audio file!”

But at this point, everyone in the class had stopped buying into Lila’s words.

“There’s an additional 44 minutes on here that say otherwise.” Alya’s statement was like a dagger in the leg. “

The class backed away from Lila, their expressions were all the same now. They were not happy with her. They were hurt.

“Lila… how could you?” Rose spoke softly, as if holding back tears.

Juleka hugged her close.

“We gave you our friendship?”

“You threatened our friend!” Kim shouted angrily.

“We trusted you!”

“Did you even care about us?”

A sea of comments from each student that was hurt by the revelation started to fill the room.

Adrien and Marinette’s expressions read more as surprise than anything else. The two had no idea Lila would be exposed like this. The class was hurt by Lila’s actions, and now she was paying the price.

Marinette moved to where alya was.

“So, this was why you were so busy.”

“Yea, and I see I wasn’t the only one whose been busy.”

Marinette had a soft smile with her friend’s comment.

“You’re the best. You know that, right?”

“No, If I was I would’ve had your back sooner. I’m sorry it took so long to come around.”

“You are still the best.”

Alya hugged the designer.

“I’m serious, after this. I want details on you and Mr. Model.”

“Deal.”

Lila did her best to try and contest the comments, trying to find some way to dispute them, but her words were falling on deaf ears. She could tell that no matter what she said, no matter what she did, it was over. She had lost.

Lila turned her attention to Marinette, her eyes seeing red.

“You, this was all your doing!”

Adrien went in front of Marinette, as if to protect her in case Lila tries to attack her.

“No Lila, you did this to yourself.” The words coming from the blond were colder then ice.

“Adrien, you don’t seriously believe all this…”

“I tried to be your friend, we all did. But you lied to our faces, you hurt our friends, you threatened Marinette. Those are things I can’t forgive.”

Lila glared at Marinette.

“Are you going to hide behind him! Have you nothing to say!?”

Marinette expected to have a whole speech ready the moment the truth was revealed, but she never expected everything to fall into place like this. Marinette felt pity for the exposed liar.

She walked past Adrien and looked into Lila’s eyes.

“I’m sorry that you didn’t think the real you was good enough for us to get to know.”

Lila acted as if she had been struck in the face. She lost the last of what remained of her tact. She was being pitied!

“You will pay for this! You don’t get to ruin my life without consequences!”

“Is it because you’re getting an akuma from your buddy, Hawkmoth?”

Everyone turned to the ladyblogger, who pointed to her phone.

“You might want to check the Ladyblog.”

Lila suddenly felt a pit of unfathomable despair hit her. What had that blogger done?

Lila forced herself to go to the ladyblog, and on the front page on the site.

Friend of Ladybug or Akuma Collaborator? The Truth on Lila Rossi

Right underneath was security footage of her grabbing an akuma for herself.

This was the absolute worst-case scenario.

Lila ran to the door. She needed to leave. She needed to escape. She needed some way to clean all of this up, but she was stopped. A clearly distraught teacher at the door. Tears rolling down her face and expression that no student has ever seen on the young teacher’s face. Sorrow.

“Lila, I need you to come to the Principal’s office.”

Everyone stood by and watched silently as Miss Bustier took the lying student away.

____________________________________________________________________

“Miss Bustier it isn’t what you think!”

The young teacher didn’t say a word as Lila tried to talk her way out. She was hurt by her students lies, the anguish she put her other students through, and never once looked into it. She felt like a failure of a teacher, she had defended her and this was what she came to find? It was unforgivable.”

She had brought the girl to Mr.Damocles’ office.

“Sit down Miss Rossi.” The owl-like man in the chair stated firmly.

Lila obeyed as Miss Bustier wiped her tears and looked at the Principal.

“Sir, I have some rather disturbing news I found out about Lila.”

“No need Caline. I had found the recording at the end of the documents.”

Lila couldn’t feel more mortified by this. This was some kind of twisted nightmare.

Lila of course wasn’t expecting the next person to walk through the door.

“Mamma?”

______________________________________________________________________________

A masked villain smiled as the window opened to let light into the empty room.

“This is it! This was the anguish I was waiting for! Lila Rossi, you will be my greatest akuma yet.”

He took a butterfly into his hand and turned into an akuma.

“Fly away my little akuma! And evilize her!”

The black buttefly left the lair and began to fly out and find the source of the negative energy.

“Mayura, it is your turn.”

The blue clad villainess step forward, plucking a feather from her fan and turning it a sinister blue.

She blows the feather away into the wind, following the butterfly.

“Fly away my beautiful amok, enhance and hone that despair into a mighty power.”

The two villains watch the sky light as they await to make contact.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for. This will be the end of Ladybug and Chat noir.”

Lila ran out of the school, it was bad enough that people found out the truth about her, But her momma?! She couldn’t watch her mother’s heart break as she learned the truth. She ran out of the office before they said anything to her.

‘I need to find a way out of this. Marinette and Alya ruined everything! Now I am the class outcast and what’s worse, my momma is going to find out everything! I need to stop this! I need to get everyone back under my control.

Lila made her way to an alley way and hid behind a dumpster. She wasn’t sure if she was being followed, but she could not risk it. Perhaps she could talk with Mr. Agreste, he could pull enough strings that could… no, he would likely dismiss her. Her usefulness was done. With everyone against her, there was no way she could do anything.

She sat and let her despair run over her. There was nothing she could do, she felt so powerless. Everything she had been building up to. Everything she had wanted was all in reach… and yet it was ripped away from her! She would do anything to have things back to how they were, back when she was in charge!

She heard something approaching. She looked up, clearly not ready to face her punishment. But what she didn’t expect to see was a butterfly coming her way.

The butterfly made its way to the silver charm bracelet on her wrist and a feather made its way into her earing. A butterfly outline appeared over her face.

“The despair of having everything you have built come crashing down.” A familiar deep voice spoke

“All of that effort dashed in one catastrophic moment.” A feminine voice continued the line, a new yet equally sinister tone.

“You were the queen of deception until they shattered your crown”

“The pain you have suffered by that horrible event.”

“What you wouldn’t give to fix everything and gain that power over others you once had.”

“Hawkmoth, so you show yourself. I was thinking you forgot all about me. And it seems you made a new friend.” Lila interrupted their eerie rhyme.

“Oh, as if I couldn’t forget about my most competent akuma.” Hawkmoth Praised.

“I am Mayura, partner of Hawkmoth, I have been watching you closely Miss Rossi.” Mayura introduced herself. “It appears you have yourself in a much more devastating predicament then before.”

“It’s all your akuma’s fault, it’s all Marinette’s fault… Its all of their faults!’

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. I am going to give you the power to get those classmates of yours back under your power, no, all of Paris under your control. You will topple Paris with an army of unquestionably loyal akuma.”

“And I will give you an ally that will obey any order from you without question.”

The Italian Exchange student loved the sound of that.

“Let me guess, all I need to do is to get Ladybug and Chat noir’s miraculous.”

“Good girl. Do we have a deal?”

“Crushing Ladybug will be therapeutic right about now. I’ll have that entire school under my foot, along with those miserable brats that ruined my life.”

“Very well! I grant you the power to reveal the akuma lying underneath each person with your masks! Show the world who you truly are, Masquerade.”

_____________________________________________________________________

(And that was Part 30! Thank you guys so much for reading up to this point. This was a long time coming. I hope it reached your expectations. Now remember to say what you think of the chapter, good, bad. I want to hear your thoughts. Is it worth seeing Part 31?

Now, I did mention that I will be announcing a new contest. Which After this reaches 1k notes I will be officially announcing.)

(If you want to support me directly, check out my ko-fi. Or if you want to support indirectly, take a look at the webcomic I am writing with @knightsweeties)

Special Honorary Tags: @martasaur @dootintootincowboy @inno-chan @tenten-hinamori @bevvydraws @worteltje7

#Soulmate survey #12k special #dun dun dun!#Lila karma #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml fanfic #miraculous fanficiton #OMG THIS TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE #OVER 9000 WORDS #soulmate searcher #lovesquare #adrinette #adrienette #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila rossi #lila x karma

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years ago

Text

Liar

Part 3

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1,7K

Warnings: angst, typos, everything sad besides doggo

Tag list:@gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @belovedadam @mascaracoffee @serebrum @myworldgoesboomz

Loki felt miserable. If only he knew what would he start with that lie. Why couldn't he tell her Y/N is his cousin or something? She and her golden-fish-like IQ would've believed him. Damn him! Damn him and Tony for making him do this! Why couldn't Stark do it himself! It was his idea afterall!

Loki was lying on a rug in his bedroom. He didn't feel like he deserved the luxury of a warm soft bed. He was looking through photos and selfies of Y/N in his phone. Her happy smile, her arms wrapped around him in a hug in his favourite selfie of you (his wallpaper), her two fingers giving him horns from behind his back and him doing it back to her. He counted, he had only 7 pictures of her in total. 'I should've taken pictures of her more often,' he thought to himself and wiped his eyes to get clearer view. He should've took a picture of her doing the most mundane things. Reading a book, drawing on a windowsill, chatting with someone. She always had this spark in her eyes whenever she talked about some of her interests. He wanted to see that spark again.

Loki caught himself dreaming of you again. 'Let her go,' he told himself. 'It will be better for her and you.'

But he didn't want to get better. Not without her. But he fucked up big time. He apologized. He showed her a proof of his innocense. She chose to put space between you two. And that was okay, right? He's already used to it, right?

His eyes were staring outside the window the whole night, but he wasn't watching anything. He needed them open, for whenever he closed them he saw you. Either crying and screaming like you did few day ago, or sad smile you gave him few hours ago, or your happy grin you have worn what seemed like ages ago.

Sky changed its shades of blue from dark to light. The morning sun made him realize that no, he isn't used to it.

The need to walk to your room was big. But he couldn't. He promised to leave you alone if you wanted. And you did.

So instead he hid in one of the old rooms everyone forgot about and never really used. He needed to be alone.

No one came looking for him yet. The only sign of someone remembering his existence was one message from Tony. Something about the info Loki got from that woman being useless and agents are taking the lead from the Avengers. Good to know he unknowingly destroyed his whole relationship with Y/N for nothing.

When he read those words the first time he wanted to smash the phone on nearest wall, but that meant losing all the pictures with you and he simply couldn't do that.

Loki wandered where where you. If you were safe. Maybe you took your dog out. Or made someone do it, so you didn't have to risk meeting him in the halls. Thought of you still avoiding him sickened him.

His lower back started to ache from sitting in pragraph position for too long. He decided to stretch and walk a little, clear his head. The plan was to go to kitchen, steal something small to eat (not because he was hungry, he needed a distraction) and go back to his secret room. Or the roof. What will came first.

With a glass of water and pockets filled with chocolate he started walking towards the exit.

Suddenly he heard small clawed paws hitting the floor making soft clicking noises. He followed the distand sound to find your little pup, Rex, walking around as if he owned the place. If he was here then you'll be nearby. Loki looked around the room, but besides the small dog and him it was empty.

When the little guy got his sent into his nose, he turned and sprinted towards Loki. He expected the pup to bite him, just like you promise you will train him, and mentally prepared himself for attack of small dull needles on his ankles.

To his surprise Rex started jumping on his leg, trying to reach his hand. When Loki lowered it to his level he started to lick it, his tail wagging wildly. Good to know at least he doesn't hate him.

"Did you escape her and went on an adventure, little guy?" he asked scratching behind his ears. Rex rolled on his belly and silently asked for scratches. Loki was more than happy to provide.

"Well, we can't leave it like that now, can we? She'll be worried sick if she doesn't find you in her room. Like this one time when she couldn't find her favourite plushie from childhood. We turned her whole room upside down just to find it. Later that day she realized she accidentally left it in my bedroom," he smiled sadly at the fond memory. "We laughed a lot afterwards. I fear she'll never laugh in my presence again," he stopped scratching.

Rex sat up and tilted his head at him.

"I know, I know, it's basically my fault. And I understand why she feels like that. Who wouldn't after their best... ex best friend said those things about them. I just wish I could turn back time and change everything."

"And why would you do that?" loki turned around to be met with face of none other than Tony Stark.

"You would never understand," he looked away.

"I'm capable of undertanding a lot of things, don't underestimate me."

Rex found new sent in the room and ran up to Tony. "Aaaw, is he yours? I never thought you'll be a dog person," Tony picked him up and got a good look on him, while Rex was trying to reach his face with his tongue.

"No, he's Y/N's. He must've escaped from her bedroom. Please, take him to her," he started walking away.

"No way, your friend, your problem. I'm already a very busy man even without pets," he put Rex on the floor and gently nudged him towards Loki.

"Here's the thing, I can't. I can't face her. And I am more than sure she doesn't want to face me."

"What happened? Don't tell me it's some petty reason like 'you picked the wrong movie' or 'those flowers don't go with ma vase'."

Loki rolled his eyes and took Rex to his hands. "No. She heard me telling lies to that woman we needed for those informations and now she doesn't trust me. I doubt she ever will."

"Just tell her how it was. How hard can that be?"

"Don't you think I already thought of that? I showed her the video from security cameras yesterday and she still doesn't want to go back to being my friend. And I understand why," he stared deeply into Rex's puppy eyes. As if the little dog felt his sadnes he tried to cuddle up to his chest.

"Then pray tell, cuz I could never understand women's logic."

Loki played with Rex's soft fur. "She knows I'm a great liar. She might think if that was a lie and she couldn't tell, then might be wondering how much of other things I told her were lies," Rex started chewing on Loki's thumb. "The truth is I never told her a single lie. Only that one time when she asked me if I'm smiling because I saw Thor fall down the stairs," he chuckled.

"Then tell her you never lied to her," Tony suggested.

"I can't. She won't believe me. Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I did. But listen, life is complicated enough already, why making it more miserable by not talking each other's issues out? Just go to her, return her dog and ask to talk to her."

"What if she slams the door in my face just like the last time? Then what genious?"

Tony shrugged. "I don't know. Write her a letter and slide it down her door?"

Loki rolled eyes and started walking in the direction of your bedroom. "Your advices suck," he called behind his back.

Here he was. Standing in front of your door, which was slightly ajar. Explaining how Rex got out. Behind those doors he laughed with you, played games with you, watched movies while cuddling with you. So many pleasant memories. Scarred by the freshest one.

He remembered the fear and panic he felt when you started shouting at him. He remembered every last word you told him. Those kinds of words only left your mouth in his worst nightmares. He never thought he'll hear them in real life.

Tiny bites along his wrist brought him back to present. He didn't know what to do. Should he stand there and wait until you come out? Or should he knock? Call out for you?

His questions got answered sooner than he thought. "What are you doing here?" he heard her voice coming from the opposite end of the hallway.

He quickly looked down at Rex in his arms, the opened doorand realized how it must look to you. "I'm not stealing him, I swear. I found him wandering around the Tower," he held him out to you.

You took him, your fingers brushed his for a moment. You coughed. "Ehm, thank you. For bringing him back, I mean."

"No problem," he stood there awkwardly, hamd behind his back.

He figured you didn't want to say anything more and he took a step to walk around you.

"Hey," you called out.

"Yes?" he asked hopefully, waiting for your next words.

"I...... uhm," you bit your lip nervously.

He saw her wilingness to talk as his chance. "Can I speak with you? About all of what happened? Please?"

You looked up at him, a small relief in your eyes. "Actually, that's what I wanted to ask you."

"Oh, okay," he felt like an awkward teen rather than over century old man.

Both of you stood in the hallway. Until you broke the silence. "Well, do you want to come in?" you pointed at your door.

"Yeah, okay. Why not? Your bedroom is nice for talking," Loki mentally slaped himself across the face for saying such stupidity.

"Yes. I suppose it is," you gave him a small smile and closed the door behind the two of you.

#loki #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki angst #loki x reader angst #rex is a good boi #im still sorry

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edens-breathless-melodies-moved · 4 years ago

Note

Oikawa + Blushing (pls and ty ❤️)

words: 1.1k

characters: oikawa tooru

warnings: nada

a/n: i’m trying to keep these under 1k but leave it to oikawa to have me go overboard 😒

➰ send me a character + adj request!

soft morning sunlight filtered in through the window, filling the room with an almost ethereal glow. strong, muscled arms held your form close, puffy cheeks from just waking up being squished into firm pecs.

you were a fool to think that you would spend a rare day off not being practically glued to oikawa’s body. somehow, you both had a day where practice wasn’t mandatory and work was gracious enough to give you a day or two to breathe.

peeling open your eyes softly, you lazily pulled your head from his warm chest, locking eyes with a glowing pair of chocolate. the edges of his eyes crinkled slightly from the smile on his lips, and oikawa tooru has never looked more gorgeous than now, bathed in the soft argentina morning sunlight.

it filtered through his hair and lit up the chestnut locks to a dizzying array of hues, the beams streaking across his cheeks and straight into his right eye. the brown orb looked almost amber, a startling contrast from the richer cocoa of its twin hidden from the rays.

a soft “good morning” rumbles past slightly chapped lips, dry from him breathing through his mouth while he slept. the raspiness of his morning voice sent an indetectable shiver down your spine, and you lightly hum in response, droopy eyes crinkling in content at him.

tooru’s gaze takes in your morning form, drinking in your soft cheeks and mussed hair with greedy eyes. normally, were you more awake, the intensity of his gaze on you would’ve made your skin tingle and a familiar heat would spread across your face; making you blush and fluster over his gaze and words is something that tooru is prideful of.

but sometimes, if the stars are aligned just correctly, you find yourself in a position to finally turn the tables on the charming bastard. the warm giddiness that floods through your system whenever that rare sight of crimson taking over his features is a feeling like no other.

and it seems that the gods have decided to answer your unconscious prayers because the rare opportunity has presented itself to you once more.

love filled eyes watched as you silently trailed your hand down his chest and underneath the blankets, brows quirking in amused curiosity as your warm fingers found his underneath the fabric.

grasping his larger hand, you gently tug it up until it breaches the safety of the covers. nothing can prepare tooru as he watches you bring his hand up to cup your face tenderly, plump lips curling into a small smile as you close your eyes and nuzzle into his calloused palm.

you know how well he takes care of his hands, how they are his strongest asset and key piece to his extraordinary talent and skill. quite honestly, it’s one of your favorite parts of his body, but sometimes you feel as if you don’t let him know just how much you truly adore them.

they’re a pretty sight to behold; the way his long and dexterous digits, strong and powerful from years of playing, gently caress your skin or hold your hand tightly in its grasp steals your breath away.

with wide palms with attractive veins and sturdy knuckles, the way you can see his tendons and muscles flex as he moves them should be downright illegal, and you just can’t get over how his hands are powerful, gorgeous, versatile, yours.

so you decide to physically show him whenever your words fail you, as they often do whenever you’re in his presence. humming softly to yourself, you nuzzle further into his palm, relishing in the unique feeling of his callouses against your soft cheeks.

your hand that had dragged his up in the first place is resting against his as well, and tooru can’t tear his eyes away from the sight, your smaller hand looking so adorable gently pressed up against his.

with your eyes still closed and a sleepy smile on your lips, you finally respond to his good morning belatedly. “good morning love,” you rasp softly, and you can hear the way his breath lightly hitches at your words.

“i don’t think i tell you this enough, but i love your hands.” you muse softly, eyes still shut. it took everything in your power to not start smirking now. this was gonna be a good one.

“especially when they hold me so softly because i’m yours.” a startled choking noise emanates from the man across from you and you smirk, already knowing what scene is lying ahead of you.

when you open your eyes, they crinkle in triumph as they take in the rare but loved image of a flustered oikawa tooru.

sun kissed porcelain skin is positively on fire, the crimson spreading from the tips of his ears to the top of his chest. chocolate eyes are wide in embarrassment but you can see the adoration swimming in them as well.

cute pink lips are parted and coupled with the way his eyebrows scrunch cutely together, his face is the perfect embodiment of raw love and embarrassment. you softly snort when his pout deepens when you turn your head to press a gentle kiss to his palm.

even after all these years, he still doesn’t know how to take a genuine compliment. before you have a chance to tease him, a startled gasp escapes you as his hand is suddenly pulled away. those same hands you were just praising grab you and pull you flush to his chest while he begins to whine.

“baaaaabe~! you can’t just say stuff like that first thing in the morning!” he whined as he begins rolling back and forth with you in the bed, smiling softly into your hair at your shrieks of laughter and giggles get muffled in his chest, legs effectively tangled in the sheets now.

“don’t be mad that i’m just saying the truth!” comes your indignant reply. tooru finally stops his impression of a crocodile’s death roll, and now here you lay on his chest, cheek still pressed firmly to his pecs as you both lay there and try to regain your breath from the sudden exercise and giggling.

giggles are still slipping past your lips as you raise your head and prop your chin on him, gazing lovingly into his eyes. tooru returns it with just as much passion, cheeks still tinged pink from earlier. you decide to finally break the staring contest by leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, melting into everything that is him.

he pulls away first, laughing lightly at the way you softly chase after him, not wanting to part so soon. now it’s his turn to grin at you, reveling in the familiar but still loved heat that scrawls across your flesh when he murmurs out “i love you.”

you're about to whine in a similar fashion like earlier, but when he brings his left hand up to cup your face again, you catch the glint of sunlight off the gold band on his ring finger. you can’t find it in yourself to break this trance that has settled over you.

so you relax and let him hold you, basking in one another’s company in the golden light.

#✨.sapphire #e.thereal #e.oikawa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #haikyuu x y/n #fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #hq oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader fluff #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #hq oikawa x reader

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mimisempai · 4 years ago

Text

I will always wait for you

Summary:

Sometimes to work out his nightmares, Sam goes flying and Bucky waits for him, knowing that he will always come home.

🌈 Happy Pride month ! 🌈

To celebrate, 1 day, 1 story.

Be ready for smiles, laugh, fluff, tooth rotthing fluff, positive vibes and a lot of love!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31925692

1719 words - Rating G

As Bucky slowly awoke from his sleep, he became aware of three things. The first was the absence of a warm body next to him, the second was the morning light streaming in through the open window, and the third was a small post-it note, lit by the ray of sunlight and lying on the pillow where Sam was not.

He took the post-it and read what Sam had written. It was short, and exactly what Bucky had expected.

Bucky,

I had a bad night. I needed to go flying.

I love you,

Sam

Taking a quick look around the room, he saw the briefcase that contained Sam's armor opened which confirmed what Sam had written to him. Shuri had done a good job of allowing the armor to have multiple appearance options, so Sam regularly went flying just for fun or often to clear his head, as it was now the case.

Bucky quickly understood that it was not because Sam didn't want to see him or couldn't stand his presence. Sometimes Sam just needed that to feel better, to fly free, without purpose or mission, to exorcise the demons that haunted him. Bucky better than anyone could understand that.

Bucky decided it was time to start his day.

After making the bed and changing into a casual outfit, he headed for the kitchen, stopping to look at the pictures that filled the hallway wall.

There were family photos there, both blood-related and not, many of them taken by Sam. He ran his fingertip along the frame of a photo taken on their wedding day. A rather cute photo that the photographer had been desperate to take, Sam smiling, his face framed by Sarah and Joaquin kissing him on both cheeks, each on one side. Sam's sister Sarah had welcomed Bucky into their family, no questions asked, and Joaquin, Sam's teammate had become like a little brother to Bucky.

Bucky, who had been alone for so long, had found happiness with this family, he was bound to them with a bond stronger than blood.

He couldn't help but smile when he saw this picture and the one next to it where he and Sam were supposed to be looking at the camera, but were looking at each other. Bucky was happy to see Sam's smile immortalized in this picture. But his throat tightened every time he saw his own face in that picture. He looked so happy.

A happiness that at one time in his life he never thought he would have.

Sam was everywhere in their house.

When Bucky arrived in the kitchen, he saw his breakfast tray ready, as they had always done for years, the first one to get up would prepare it for the other. This morning there was a can of coffee he didn't know about. Bucky removed the post-it note stuck to the can to read it.

Carlos said that your coffee hasn't been delivered yet, but I found one that tastes almost the same. Try it. Or throw it away and get a Starbucks if you're not happy.

Love.

He put the post-it note in his pocket with the first one he'd found on the pillow.

When Sam had become Captain America ten years ago, knowing that Bucky had chosen to stay in Delacroix most of the time unless there was an urgent mission that required his skills, they knew they would have complicated schedules. Sam would regularly have to leave unexpectedly, without them necessarily having a chance to say goodbye.

So Sam had started leaving post-it notes, and Bucky was responding to them. Over the years, this has become an essential part of their relationship. Not just for urgent matters, but also for general messages, and sometimes just a gentle thought written down for the other to find later.

Bucky sipped his coffee, which he had to admit was not bad at all. He looked at the calendar hanging on the wall with scribbled events and Sam's work schedule for the week hanging next to it. He saw that Sam would have to leave for periods of several days, lots of events and press conferences. He was disappointed for a brief moment, as they would not see each other for several days. Some might say that he had got used to it, but for him it meant that after ten years the attachment was the same if the thought of Sam's absence had that effect on him.

But he wanted to make their lives more pleasant, as Sam did, so he went to get the ingredients for some muffins. Chocolate chip muffins were Sam's favourite. Bucky had discovered a passion for cooking. Well, especially when it came to cooking for Sam. The others...

He took one for himself, then packed the others in a plastic box, and stuck a post-it on it telling Sam that he would be of no use to anyone if he starved.

After folding the laundry he decided to sit in the living room and read, today was a day of rest for both of them after all so he was going to enjoy it.

After two hours of reading, Sam wasn't home yet, but it wasn't nearly long enough to start worrying. Maybe he had decided to visit friends or family. But it was more likely that he was flying high in the sky. He had once told Bucky that there were only two things that made him forget his nightmares: flying and Bucky's arms. Too bad he didn't wake Bucky up and let him help him with the second.

Looking for something to distract his mind, he took the small notebook that Sam had given him the other day. He had seen that the previous one was full. Sam had given him the first notebook 10 years ago, to replace Steve's. He told him that since this was a new life, he should have a new notebook to fill with positive things. Since then, Bucky had been writing down things he wanted to do, visit, eat, listen to. This was his second notebook. As he flipped through it, he found a new little post-it note

I took the liberty of adding a few lines... I hope you won't mind.

I love you (so much more than 10 years ago and less than tomorrow.)

Bucky smiled, feeling moved, and ran his fingers over the notebook, tracing the familiar curves of Sam's writing.

Then he went to the last page where Sam had written something.

-Listening to Trouble Man (You stubborn old man)

-Trying a new delicious recipe for Sam (though nothing outdoes your muffins)

-Being nice to Redwing (jealous of a bot, how cute of you)

Shaking his head and laughing, he put the notebook back in its place.

He continued to walk around the living room. He found himself in front of the fireplace. Winters were not cold, so a fireplace was not common in Louisiana homes. And yet it was Sam who had wanted it when they built their house after Bucky had confided in him that what haunted him most in his nightmares was the cold. The memory of his cryogenic sleeps.

So when the roles were reversed and Bucky needed warmth after a nightmare. When he didn't want to disturb Sam or when Sam wasn't there, He would light the fire and sit in front of it until the heat made him forget his nightmares.

The way their relationship had started, who would have thought they would have come to this. Certainly not him. But they were perfect together in a way Bucky would never have dared to dream.

Bucky figured Sam's nightmare must have been particularly hard on him, to keep him out there for so long, but he trusted him to tell him about it when he needed to.

In the meantime, he picked up an old record and headed for the record player. Another present from Sam when Bucky had told him he missed the sound of old records.

I hadn't anyone till you.

Bucky remembered when this song had come out. As he listened to the lyrics now, he thought they were prescient.

I hadn't anyone

Till you

I was the lonely one

Till you

I used to lie awake and wonder

If there could be

A someone in this wide world

Just made for me

His eyes fell on another post-it note on the record cover.

Bucky, you little sap, I'm sure you think this song is written for you. The someone just made for you, you think that's me right?

Well you're right and it's mutual.

With love from your fool in love.

He read it several times and put it in his pocket with the others. The little piece of paper may not have been warm, but Bucky felt a familiar warmth spread through him.

Music filled the room and Bucky opened the living room window to let the breeze in.

He lay down on the couch, the book he had started this morning in his hand, resting his head on one armrest and his feet on the other. He quickly became absorbed in his reading, absentmindedly humming the song. When he got to the part Sam mentioned in his little note, Bucky began to sing out loud as well, and as his voice faded with the music, he heard the door open behind him.

Bucky sat up and turned his head, Sam was home.

"Stay where you are, love."

Sam came to join him, kissed him gently before sitting against him, Bucky closed his arm around him.

"Hi," Sam said softly, a half smile on his face. "I missed you."

"Hi," Bucky replied, pressing a kiss to Sam's head. "I missed you too. Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, I did," Sam replied. "Did you have a good time too? I'm sorry I wasn't there most of the day."

"Of course you were there," Bucky replied. It was the truth. Sam was always there, even when he wasn't physically there. Bucky could see him everywhere. There were traces of him, of them, everywhere. And when he left, he always came home. In Bucky's arms.

He tightened his embrace and whispered softly, "You are here. And I will always wait for you. Always."

_____ I think the sappy one is me but well...

I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

Not beta'd

#sambucky fic #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #married #fluff #tfatws #caatws

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kinda-iconic · 4 years ago

Text

Second Chances

Author's note: It's been a long time since I last wrote anything on here. This was partly caused by an issue on motivation, as I just wasn't feeling as though my writing was good enough anymore. However, I have tried to keep to it, and this is ultimately the result of my perseverance. This fanfic takes place between the events of 'Morning Sickness' and 'Truth doesn't always set you free'.

Summary: Adrian accompanies Amy to her first ultrasound scan.

Tagging: @bloodboundismylife @shelley-parah @nala-raines @lauren-raines-x @adrianadmirer @choicesfannatalie @purvishraick @flowerpowell @adriansbiss @tays-role-plays @caroldxnvxrs @crystalwillow @a-raines

Word Count: 2'703 words

Please do let me know if you would like to be tagged in future works.

‘If you could just lift your blouse up for me.’

Adrian glances around the room, the bitter scent of hand sanitizer burning his nostrils; the room is mostly bare, though as he focuses on his surroundings, he becomes more aware of its contents. The walls are plain, decorated only with the occasional information poster and a glove dispenser. The vibrancy of the lights compares to that of the sun, its fluorescent beams illuminating every corner of the room. As he continues to study his environment, the midwife approaches Amy's feet, adjusting the plastic on the end of the bed before pulling the curtain across.

Adrian focuses his attention on her, his brows knitting together as he observes her movements. A soft squeeze of the hand causes him to look away, luring his concentration back to the source of the distraction; Amy is lying before him, her petite form positioned comfortably on the hospital bed, her free hand resting atop her bare abdomen. She looks up at him, her brown doe-like eyes gazing worriedly into at his own, her voice no louder than a gentle whisper as she tries to provide him with words of comfort.

‘It’s okay, Adrian,’ she greets him with a tired smile, the pad of her thumb drawing soothing circles on the skin of his palm, ‘this is just standard procedure.’

He glances back at the woman, his expression indecipherable as he ensures that she is not privy to their conversation. Satisfied that the midwife remains indisposed, he raises Amy’s hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

‘That doesn’t mean that I cannot worry.’

Before either one can say more, the midwife turns back to face them, her fingers clasped tightly around the transducer. She shifts forward in her seat, regarding the pair with a welcoming smile as she lays sight on Amy’s stomach.

‘That’s perfect,’ she reaches forward, carefully adjusting the fabric of Amy’s shirt before gesturing to the band of her leggings, ‘I just need access to your lower abdomen if that is alright.’

‘O-okay!’

Amy does as she is asked, moving her clothing downward before looking to her for approval. She is met with a satisfied nod in return, the woman’s smile growing more evident as she retrieves a collection of paper towels from the dispenser; however, as she moves to assist Amy with tucking them in place, Adrian interjects her, strategically placing his hand over the remaining material. She lifts her gaze to meet his own, looking at him in befuddlement as she tries to ponder on the reason for his interruption.

‘Mr Raines, if I could just-’

‘I would rather be the one to do it if that is okay with you.’

The midwife does not respond, instead choosing to remove herself from the conversation, putting herself at a distance so that Adrian is able to continue her work. She watches him closely, her emerald eyes widening in surprise as she takes note of the gentleness of his touch, his fingers moving bashfully as he tries to imitate her actions. As he moves to work on the area adjacent to her hip, Amy places her hand atop of his, interlacing her fingers with his own; he hesitantly meets her gaze, as if aware that his recent actions have caused her discomfort.

‘I just want to keep you safe.’

‘I know,’ she whispers, her words soft and comforting as she carefully reaches for her stomach, her fingertips softly tapping against her skin as she continues to cradle her small bump, ‘but Sarah isn’t going to hurt me, Adrian – all she wants to do is to make sure that the baby and I are alright.'

He sighs, the corner of his mouth tugging into a sorrowful smile as he reaches up to caress her cheek, his fingers entangling in her hair as the pad of his thumb presses against her bottom lip. He inclines his head towards her, as if suddenly remembering their present company.

‘I worry about you, Amy,’ he looks down at her abdomen, his free hand coming to rest atop her own as his thoughts continue to play havoc with his mind; though his gaze begins to soften, there is a hint of worry on his brow, as though his concerns for the future of his family are weighing on his mind more than he chooses to admit. ‘It is not the first time that someone has tried to harm you and our child,’ he shifts his gaze to the side, watching Sarah as she continues to busy herself, remaining blissfully unaware of the wariness in his tone, ‘and now that Gaius knows about the baby…’

He utters his maker’s name with bitterness, every syllable spoken like venom on the tongue; as if by instinct, his muscles begin to tense, his expression glassy and vacant as he decides to press on, the hand that was once resting on her stomach now travelling up to take hold of her hand.

‘I don’t like doubting the intentions of every passer-by that graces our door,’ he leans closer, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, ‘but it is something I must do if I am to keep you both safe.’

‘I understand,’ her voice is quiet, barely audible to the ear, ‘but not everybody is out to get us, Adrian. The staff here are only trying to do their job.’ She gives his hand a comforting squeeze, the tension slowly easing from his body at her touch, ‘Don’t you think that they would have hurt me by now if they were working for Gaius?’

‘I just-’

‘I know,’ she greets him with a loving smile, her nose slightly crinkling at the gesture, ‘and that’s okay! I get that you want to protect us, but…you cannot spend the next six months fretting day and night over something that may never happen.’

‘This is Gaius, Amy; if he wants something, there is no telling how far he will go to get it.’

‘Then that is a problem for future Adrian.’

‘Amy…’

She reaches upwards, blessing his skin with a gentle caress as she cups his face in his hands, ‘I know that all this uncertainty hasn’t been easy to handle, and I understand why you are afraid,’ she releases a joyful sigh, her voice slowly trailing into a whisper, ‘but this should be a happy time. We’re about to see our baby; we’re going to see our little one for the very first time.’

He matches her enthusiasm, his words spoken with reminiscence.

‘I…I know.’

He looks over at the midwife, his stoic facade slowly fading as he observes her for a moment, taking a mental note of the care she is putting into each individual task; he turns his attention back to Amy, his fingertips grazing her knuckles as he reaches for her palm.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You have nothing to apologise for…at least not to me.’

He follows her gaze to Sarah; understanding that he has overstepped, Adrian takes a deep breath, closing his eyes momentarily before gathering the courage to correct his mistake.

‘You have my sincerest apologies, Sarah,’ he shakes his head in self-frustration, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as his eyes drift back to Amy, his voice laden with regret and embarrassment. ‘The last thing I wanted to do was to cause any offence.’

She waves her hand dismissively, causing him to cease in his apology.

‘It’s okay,’ her attention does not stray from the monitor as she proceeds to press several buttons, ‘you’re not the first father-to-be that has questioned our practices.’

‘That still does not excuse my behaviour.’

‘There is nothing to excuse, Sir,’ Sarah sits back on her chair, drawing the machine closer to the bedside; she removes a bottle of gel from its holder before tilting the nozzle towards Amy’s abdomen, her gloved hand shifting a stray piece of tissue from the substance’s future path. ‘Amy is an exceedingly kind and compassionate young woman.’ She adjusts herself slightly, as if trying to access a better angle, ‘it is understandable that you feel protective of her.’

‘I fear sometimes that I am being too protective, but whenever I stop, I cannot help but feel as though something might happen to her if I allow myself to let my guard down.’

‘I wouldn’t say that you were being over-protective,’ she smiles up at him, ‘I have been an acting midwife for two decades; the things that have been said to me…’ she sighs, her focus never straying from the task at hand, ‘let’s just say I have had a lot worse thrown in my direction.’

‘But you are only doing your job.’

‘And I am grateful that you see it that way,’ she pauses, as if thinking over her next few words with caution, ‘the difference in this situation is that your concern was over the safety of Amy and your child, whereas theirs were more to do with the duration of the examination or advice that I had given their partners about a change of lifestyle as the pregnancy progressed. Again, these were suggestions; I was not going to force them to make these changes.’

‘But you’re a midwife,’ Amy states in befuddlement, her brows furrowing in her confusion, ‘you have a duty of care to both mother and baby. All you were doing was telling your patients how they could improve their lifestyle to make pregnancy easier…’

‘Unfortunately, not everybody sees it like that,’ her smile remains, ‘but it is nice to hear that someone agrees with me.’

She moves over to the desk, collecting Amy's patient file from the end of the bed before settling at the computer; she studies Amy's notes for a moment, her eyes skimming through her information without so much as a second thought, ‘this is your first child, correct?’

A tightness consumes Adrian’s chest, his breath slightly hitching in his throat as her words begin to replay in his mind.

The baby would indeed be Amy’s first child, that much was true.

But it wasn’t his.

He lowers his gaze to the floor, closing his eyes as he tries to keep his emotions at bay. It is only when Amy speaks that he looks back up at her, desperate to hear the softness of her comfort.

‘It-it’s my first,’ she lifts her gaze to meet Adrian’s, her brown doe-like eyes awash with reassurance and understanding; she greets him with an adoring smile, her fingers beginning to re-entwine with his, the tenderness in her touch acting as a silent understanding between them. ‘I-I have never done this before.’

'Well, I would be lying if I said it was easy,' the midwife quips, 'but to hold your baby in your arms for the very first time? Totally worth it.'

The woman places the transducer onto Amy’s skin, the coldness of the gel causing her to gasp in surprise. She pauses her examination, her gaze lifting to study Amy’s expression as she removes the device from her abdomen.

‘Are you alright?’ She reaches for a tissue, dabbing at a splotch of gel that has started to drift from Amy’s midsection. ‘Did I apply too much pressure?’

‘No, I…’ she shifts slightly, her fingers grasping onto the paper towel-like sheet that is poking out from underneath her, ‘it’s just colder than I thought it would be.’

‘My apologies,’ Sarah responds with a sympathetic smile, pressing the apparatus back on the spot just below her navel, ‘I probably should have warned you before I applied it.’

‘It…might have prepared me a little bit.’

Adrian chuckles softly, instinctively lifting Amy’s hand to his lips; he places a delicate kiss on her palm, his warm hand gently encasing her wrist.

‘It will warm up in time, sweetheart.’

‘I wonder if you would say the same if it was squeezed onto your tummy,’ she glances down at her growing bump, her tired eyes focusing on the device as it starts to move across her abdomen, ‘does it make it easier to see the baby?’

Sarah responds with a curt nod, her focus never wavering from the task at hand. She continues to alter the path of the transducer, as if trying to ensure that every inch of Amy’s abdomen is covered.

‘In a way,’ she presses down slightly, her gaze lifting only momentarily as she addresses her patient, ‘the gel acts almost like a connector of sorts. It reduces the amount of air between the scanner and your womb, so I am able to get a clearer image of the baby.’

‘Would the air bubbles distort the picture?’

The midwife raises her brow, regarding Amy with an expression of curiosity. She tilts her head in Amy’s direction, her subtlety instinctively succeeding in drawing Adrian’s attention.

‘She seems to know a lot about this subject, Mr Raines,’ a nervous laugh escapes her, and Adrian is quick to notice the faint curvature of bewilderment on her features, ‘is there some incredibly informative new parenting book that I am yet to become aware of?’

‘Not quite,’ he greets her with a soft smile, his tone becoming more animated as he continues his train of thought, ‘Amy’s pregnancy, it… took us by surprise to say the least.’ He reaches forward, gently pressing his hand to the Bloodkeeper’s cheek, ‘neither of us are experts on child-rearing, so we thought that it would be better to listen to first-hand accounts before delving into any parenting books.’

‘Sometimes it is best to listen to those that are closest to you,’ she nods in agreement, delicately changing direction of her examination as she glances back at the screen, ‘may I ask who this person this?’

‘Most of the advice we’ve had has been from my Sister-in-Law,’ Amy looks up at Adrian, whose hand rests firmly upon her shoulder, his grip supportive and familiar, ‘although my Mom has given me a few pointers that might help.’

‘It is always good to receive another mother’s advice, regardless as to whether she is your own,’ she smiles warmly at the pair, her happiness only brightening as she catches sight of the screen; the midwife refocuses her attention on the couple, her voice laced with excitement.

‘Are you ready to see your baby?’

‘Y-yes.’

She turns the monitor towards them, her right hand still slowly moving across Amy’s abdomen; at first, all Adrian and Amy can see is darkness, but as they focus on the screen, a soft, grey image comes into view.

‘Is…’ he hesitates, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes linger on the picture, ‘is that…’

‘It most certainly is.’

‘Woah…’

They both continue to look at the image, their mouths agape in wonder as they process what they are bearing witness to. After a couple of minutes, Amy glances up at Sarah, her eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

‘That’s…that’s our baby?’

She nods, reaching over to adjust the tissue that is tucked into Amy’s waistband. Using her free hand, she points to the screen.

'There’s the baby’s head, and if you look closely…’ she pauses, slowly rolling the device back down its original path, ‘you should be able to see their arms and feet.’

Amy fixes her gaze on the image, her eyes widening as the child’s features become visible. She turns to Adrian, a single tear trickling onto her cheek.

‘That’s our little one,’ she smiles excitedly, a nervous chuckle escaping her as her tears continue to fall, ‘I…this is really happening.’

He reaches for her hand, taking it in his own before lifting it up to lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

‘Neither can I,’ he flashes her a giddy grin, his gaze never straying from hers, ‘I never thought that I…that we could…’

Amy shakes her head, a nervous chuckle escaping her.

‘It’s… not exactly something that I thought would be happening to me.’

‘I thought so too, at least not for me,’ he looks at her earnestly, his gaze softening in adoration as he studies her features; he reaches up to caress her cheek, the pad of his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her skin, ‘but I’m so glad that I get to do this with you.’

#choices: stories you play #playchoices #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #choices fanfic #I did it!

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